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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374644">The Taste of Ashes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna'>Hallianna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mage, Warden, Fadewalker [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Blood and Injury, Character Death, Divergent Timelines, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Not timeline accurate for some events, Pansexual Character, Polyamory, Sex, Sia believes in pleasure, Threesome - F/F/M, Threesome - F/M/M, f/f - Freeform, some story events not included, told in vignettes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:49:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>72,717</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24374644</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallianna/pseuds/Hallianna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When you've been locked away your whole life, for being something that you neither caused or wished for, the road means freedom.</p><p>Even if at the end of that road is a bloody Archdemon.</p><p>But freedom is more than lavender fields and the smell of hay and the promise of growing friendships. It allows for so many other options, other choices. Who to side with, who to love, who to manipulate.</p><p>Sia Amell is fire and fury and the wrath of her mage ancestors. But she is determined to make her own future, and not let anyone stand in her way. A certain Crow assassin makes her life more difficult; she wasn't supposed to fall in love.</p><p>(Also have lots and lots of polyamorous affairs with her companions. That wasn't supposed to happen either.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alistair/Female Amell/Zevran Arainai, Alistair/Isabela, Alistair/Zevran Arainai, Cullen Rutherford/Female Warden, Female Amell/Cullen Rutherford, Female Amell/Leliana (Dragon Age), Female Amell/Zevran Arainai, Leliana/Female Warden (Dragon Age), Zevran Arainai/Female Warden, Zevran Arainai/Female Warden/Cullen Rutherford, Zevran Arainai/Leliana/Female Warden, Zevran Arainai/Leliana/Warden</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Mage, Warden, Fadewalker [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108013</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>62</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not all events may line up perfectly to the overall timeline; I've taken many liberties with the plot of DAO in particular.</p><p>It's done! Finally! Onto part 2....</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alistair watched the Antivan assassin closely.  Stealthy as he might be, with those leathers that blended into the forest and daggers smudged with ash so their glint didn't alert his prey, the blonde elf wasn't being sneaky about his interest in Sia.  The elf’s eyes tracked Sia like a target and Alistair didn't like it.</p><p>No, he wasn't jealous.  He knew his skill at courting was next to zero and Sia had made it obvious - sometimes painfully obvious- that his feeble attempts to make her bat her eyelashes weren't working.  </p><p>
  <em> Did she bat her eyelashes?  She wasn't a coy woman.  Maybe that's where he went wrong.  She might be the daughter of a noble, but Sia Amell didn't simper, didn’t bow courteously.  She was fire and sunlight, sparking against the wood of her staff so brightly that at times he feared she’d set more than the oak in her hand ablaze. </em>
</p><p>He glanced over at the fire and watched Sia approach their new companion.  Personally, bringing the Crow with them had been an….ill-advised call, especially when he and <em> Morrigan </em>agreed.  Alistair shuddered and pushed thoughts of the Wilds witch from his mind.  He needed to pay attention to Zevran, for all their sakes.</p><p>What transpired in the next few minutes made his heart sink.  Sia and the assassin talked and from anyone’s perspective, Sia didn't drop her guard once.  Arms crossed, mouth firm, spine rigid, she looked like she expected the elf to attack at any moment.</p><p><em> Well, that's what you get when you bring a Crow assassin into the fold, </em> he thought.  <em> Oh, but Alistair, he only tried to kill us once.  I'm </em> <b> <em>certain </em> </b> <em> he won't do it again.  He was only hired by our arch-enemy.  It's not like he's a mindless darkspawn.  He’s just a flunkie of Loghain’s! </em></p><p>
  <em> No, just one little assassin.  We can handle him.  Before he knives us all in our sleep or poisons the stew. </em>
</p><p>He watched her end the conversation with a shrug and a snappy turn on her heel.  But as she walked away from Zevran and closer to his camping spot, he saw her small smile.  Sia nodded at him as she passed, then disappeared into her tent.</p><p>“Oh, don't mind me,” he said quietly to the dark.  “I'll just be sleeping out here, in case of darkspawn.  Or if too-smooth assassins who just tried to kill us hours ago decide to finish the job.”</p>
<hr/><p>Sia worried.  She worried greatly and with her whole heart as she stared up at the dim beige ceiling of her tent, listening to her Mabari snore softly at her feet.  </p><p>The fate of the world rested on the backs of her and Alistair, and she wasn't sure they were up to the task.  It had been a cold, slow slog through the Frostback Mountains, searching for that damned urn.  Wynne and Leliana had been overcome at the discovery of Andraste’s ashes, speaking in hushed, awed tones as they stood several paces back.  And while they gaped, she struggled to fasten the too-complicated buckles on her traveling robes with hands numb from the cold.</p><p><em> Only the religious would readily strip down to their smalls to pass some insane test as a way to “prove” themselves, </em> she'd thought.  <em> And now we get to use said ashes to raise a man from the brink of death so he can help us stop even more death.  And then because I'd been so focused on getting back to Redcliffe that we were ambushed by assassins and now I've recruited their leader into our little party.  Excellent, that should go over well.  </em></p><p>
  <em> If he doesn't kill us first. </em>
</p><p>“I'm getting a little sick of all this death and dying,” she said in a soft voice, her fingers creeping down her bedroll to seek out the familiar warmth and weight of her Mabari.  She scratched the back of his neck and he snorted contentedly.  “Good boy.  Get your rest.”</p><p>Sia stared at the ceiling once again, trying not to think about ash and death.</p><p>
  <em> Two hours later </em>
</p><p>Sia pulled back the flap of her tent and peered into the darkness.  She'd expected to see Leliana and Sten, who were on the late evening watch, to be sitting by the fire.  Instead, Sten was standing at the back of the camp, a silent sentinel on guard. </p><p>And Zevran had Leliana’s place by the fire.</p><p>
  <em> And he's already shirking my orders. </em>
</p><p>She quickly buckled her robes and pulled on not yet dry boots, flinching as wet leather engulfed her toes.  Courage, the Mabari, lifted his head in question and she chuffed softly at him.  “Stay, boy.  I'll be right out here.”</p><p>The dog harrumphed and put his head back down, but his dark eyes watched her leave the tent.  </p><p>Zevran was crouched at the fire now, stoking it with an old sword.  He lifted his eyes from the fire to her as she approached.  “Has my two hours on watch passed so quickly? </p><p>“No,” she replied tersely as she stared down at him.  “You were not on watch.  Leliana was and still should be.”</p><p>That made the elf smile.  “Ah, yes, the <em> other </em>lovely redhead in this little party.  I came over to the fire to dry my clothes and she looked so tired.  I simply suggested I take her place while she rest.”</p><p>Sia lifted an eyebrow, disbelief thinning her lips as she frowned.  “I highly doubt Leliana abandoned her post.”</p><p>Sparks flew in the air as Zevran stabbed the fire.  They winked against the darkness and were gone in a matter of seconds.  “Well, it is hard to resist even the most mundane of my suggestions-”</p><p>“She didn't leave her post without my knowledge.”</p><p>Sia turned as Sten approached.  The war axe he was using until they found his sword was nicked in several places on its wickedly sharp edge.  The firelight danced with that edge and the dark red stains scattered across the blade. “Explain what you mean.”</p><p>Sten didn’t look up at the bite in her tone. “She was injured.  Zevran offered to take her place.  I suggested she take the time to bandage herself.”  He looked up then as if to say, <em> Simple, right? </em></p><p>Sia sighed.  <em> Simple.  Right. </em>  “I’ll let this go.  This one time.”  That got Sten’s attention and she tried to keep the pompous smile she was always scolded for at the Circle off her face.  “But if anyone shirks my commands again, there will be consequences.”  She turned to Zevran and barked, “Have you seen anything?”</p><p>He gave a careless shrug.  “A few skittering shadows through the bushes.  Nothing to be scared of, my dear Warden.”  He lifted an eyebrow and hitched a thumb toward Alistair’s tent.  “Though that one’s snoring is the stuff nightmares are made of.”</p><p>Sia tried not to laugh.  He wasn’t wrong. Alistair’s tent was beside hers and some nights, between the snoring and the rustling of his tossing and turning, she felt like she was going mad.  “I’m not talking about anyone’s snoring,” she said curtly.  Zevran kept smiling at her tone and she lifted an eyebrow.  “Something funny?”</p><p>He shrugged again.  “Oh, it is nothing.”</p><p>She narrowed her eyes but sat across from him.  She pulled out a dagger and started running it down a length of tanning leather she kept in her pocket.  “Clearly it’s something.  And need I remind you, I didn’t spare you out of the goodness of my own heart.”</p><p>“No?”  He paused in his fire-stoking to stare at her, all signs of mirth now gone from his face.  “You simply spared me because I was useful?”</p><p>“Assassins are useful.”</p><p>“Ah, but I’m not a particularly good one, am I?”  His sword punched through the crumbling remains of a log, the loud crack seeming to bounce all around them.  “I failed to kill you or the other Warden.”</p><p>Sia kept running the blade over the leather, her eyes never leaving her task.  “You were outmanned.”</p><p>“But not outnumbered.”  </p><p>“We’re better fighters.  The fact that you’re sitting here now proves that.”</p><p>He clucked his tongue at her.  “I think it proves you’re merciful.”  That made her look up and he laughed.  “Don’t be offended.  It is a compliment, a merciful heart.  Especially one that dares to show it amongst all this death and misery.”</p><p>She set the blade down and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.  “Why not practical?  You were unconscious, you were hired by our enemy, and you’re a skilled fighter.  It seems to me such a scenario works out in our favor.”  She grinned, suddenly, ferociously.  “And if it doesn’t, then there are other solutions.</p><p>Zevran cocked his head at the blunted edge to her words.  What he had meant as teasing was now becoming something far more interesting..  She didn’t <em> like </em> to be deemed merciful.  He found that curious, so much that he leaned forward, mimicking her posture, and grinned as well.  “And I have no doubt you would be very creative in...administering those solutions.  But is it so bad to be both practical and merciful?  I do not think anyone in your little party, save the witch, would look down upon the latter.” </p><p>The grin dropped from her face and she sighed.  “Look, I don’t know what you’re getting at but I’m too tired to play games.  That honey voice might work on others, but I’m not interested.  Just spit it out, whatever’s bugging you, and then I’ll go back to bed.”</p><p>“You don’t want to play?  Too bad.  And here I was hoping we’d make a grand game of it.”</p><p>Sia stood, the dagger forgotten.  She was starting to wonder if she had made a mistake, in practicality or mercifulness.  “In case you haven’t noticed,” she snapped, “this isn’t a game.”  She gestured at the dark woods around them.  “There are darkspawn everywhere and an Archdemon and a power-crazed general all looking for our blood.  I don’t want to play <em> games </em>.”</p><p>Zevran studied her for a moment, the bright red hair and the rigid posture and the scarred knuckles and he wondered.  He wondered all sorts of things both bright and mysterious, plain and fanciful about her.  And then he realized that he really <em> was </em> a poor assassin, despite his jest earlier.  </p><p>He knew nothing about her.  And he always knew something about his targets.  The poor information Loghain had given the Crows was about her appearance and her position, if one could call it that.  He’d been told nothing about the fire within the woman.  </p><p>Or her beautiful, merciful heart.</p><p>He held up his hands.  “I mean no harm or insult, my dear Warden.  Forgive me.  I think the other Warden knocked me about the head and that must be making me woozy.  Please, don’t let my inane chattering bother you.  We will start again tomorrow, yes?”</p><p>Sia chewed on the inside of her cheek, her eyes straying over him for a long moment.  He felt like she was stripping him to the bones with that gaze, in a cold, calculating way that sent a shiver down his spine. </p><p>He didn’t scare easily.  She didn’t scare him.  But she did, in that moment, make herself known as predator, not prey.  He’d not make the mistake again of trying to go about knowing her in a way that didn’t acknowledge this fact.  But he certainly wasn’t ready to give up. </p><p>“Fine,” she finally said, more sigh than word.  “Try not to let anything kill us for the next few hours?  She turned on her heel and walked back to her tent, disappearing within to the sound of her hound’s thumping tail.</p><p>The fire cracked and the shadows crept.  Zevran stared out to the woods, his mind running circles.</p><p>“If you enjoy living, I would not press that one.”</p><p>Zevran looked up and saw Sten staring at him.  The big Qunari warrior had walked away from his post, but only by a few feet.  Axe slung over his shoulder, weak moonlight stretching long over his form, Sten looked like something out of the book of fairy stories Zevran had read as a child. It had been the only book in the whorehouse, left by some patron. </p><p>“And you would know this how?” he shot back, more curious than offended.</p><p>Sten looked at him with flat, dark eyes and replied, “Because she may be female, but she is a warrior.”  He blinked, shifted his axe a little higher on his shoulder.  “But you were not wrong about her heart.  The best warriors understand mercy.  It is a trait my Qunari brothers are taught to understand, but not use.”</p><p>Zevran frowned.  “How can you understand mercy if you do not use it?”</p><p>“I would ask the same of you, elf.”</p><p>Zevran found himself without an answer.  Troubled by this, he resumed in stoking the fire.  Sten left him to the flames and went back to walking the camp’s perimeter.  </p><p>And there he stayed until hours later, as the sky turned pink and orange and he heard his companions rustle around in their tents.  Neither he nor the big Qunari warrior had moved from their posts for hours and the start of a new day had snuck up on them.  Snuck up on him, rather, since Zevran highly doubted the man missed anything.  And Sten certainly wasn't bogged down by thoughts he'd never had cause to toy with before.</p><p>Tent flaps opened and then there she was again, dressed in the same traveling robe, gripping her staff tightly, her hound at her side.  Ignoring the churning in his mind, he sidled up next to Leliana as she loaded her quiver with newly thatched arrows.</p><p>“I appreciate you letting me take the time to bandage my wounds,” she said without looking in his direction. “But I shouldn't have left my post.  It was irresponsible of me.”</p><p>Zevran sighed gustily.  “I have been told before I encourage irresponsibility in even the most stalwart.  It's my gift….well, one of many.”</p><p>Leliana snorted.  “If you have the gift of charm, I'd make sure not to press it too hard against Sia.  She's already not happy with you.”  She finally turned and gave him a toothy grin.  “And I believe she was sent to us. To save us. To save us all.  So if you wrong her, I will happily cut that clever tongue from your mouth.”</p><p>Zevran scoffed.  “<em> If </em> I have any charm?  Is it not evident?”</p><p>She slung the quiver over her shoulder and gave him a disappointed look.  “No, and neither is any sign of intelligence.  Sad, really.  I bet you're a wonder in bed.”  She shrugged.  “No matter.”</p><p>Zevran laughed quietly to himself.  A bard she was, then.  Her masterfully delivered insults solidified his early suspicions that Leliana was a professional.  </p><p>Quite the company he had landed in.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her dreams were made of darkspawn teeth, the sickly green of the Fade, and the distant roar of the Archdemon.  Sleep hadn't exactly been easy to find after becoming a Warden, but her dreams had been even more haunted of late.</p><p>She remembered fire and ash and death and the hazy pulse of magic amongst ruined walls and so many broken bodies of her fellow mages.</p><p>She remembered the Circle, the before and the after.  She remembered thinking nothing could be worse than her Harrowing, and then she’d seen the destruction wrought in what had once been her home.</p><p>
  <em> And she remembered a Templar.  His before:  a nervous young man clearly new to his appointment, his armor too loud and his hands always clasped in behind him.  She’d seen him from afar, until one late afternoon, she passed by him as he received orders from his elders.  She’d glanced their way but did not linger, her step never hesitating despite the odd pull low in her stomach.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gianna and Beldon were with her on their way to the library. And they hadn’t been fifty feet past the group of Templars when Gianna had leaned over to her and loudly whispered, “I saw that look.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What?” Sia had looked at her friend, confused. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Gianna had winked at Beldon over Sia’s head and then said in a louder, clearer voice, “I saw you, making eyes at the cute new Templar.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sia had scowled, but her face turned bright red as she heard several of the Templars clear their throats loudly.  She was embarrassed because she had indeed taken notice of the strapping young Templar, with his hazel eyes and curly blonde hair.  She hadn’t been the only one to notice him, if the giggles and sighs of some of the younger (and older, if she was being honest) mages as they passed him by.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Beldon snickered at them and Sia had shoved him hard in the back, pushing him and then Gianna through the next door.  It was an empty barrack for Circle mages and hadn’t been opened in some time, if the door’s loud creak had anything to say about it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s not funny,” she said, her tone scolding as Gianna and Baldon laughed.  “I don’t want the attention of the Templars and now you’ve just -” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “She didn’t do anything,” Beldon had replied between bouts of laughter.  “Look, Gia and I both know you’re a bit...hard up.  Cute new Templar comes on duty, and you do your best to not look at him?”  He had nudged Gianna in the side and then said, “They’re not all bad, you know.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sia had sighed, unable to stay angry at her friends for long.  They’d been together since they were children and Sia saw them as family.  They were together most hours of the day - for study and practice, for meals and late night talks.  And she had covered for both of them when they went off to have late-night trysts with….well, she could only guess who.  They might have been the best of friends, but sharing the names of one’s lovers was against some unwritten rule amongst the mages.  It had been like that long before Sia had ever come to the Circle, and she guessed it would continue that way, with everyone tucked into shadowy corners and dark nooks, not daring the flame of a single candle lest they be caught. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Oh, and she had heard the rumors whispered...about some of the trysts that weren’t between mages.  That some of the mages had taken Templar paramores (or perhaps it was the other way around) and of course such behavior was forbidden.  Few even dared to whisper amongst themselves about such couplings, but it was not a secret.  Some Templars used mage bodies and hearts as a kind of power play, some sick dominion over their charges that went beyond guarded caution. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But Sia had heard of a few Templars who sought connection.  Even intimacy.  The life of a Templar was not so different than the life of a Circle mage in certain regards - they were both trapped, living a rather mundane existence punctuated by sudden atrocities.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And it was a lonely existence where trust was a scarce commodity and neither Templar nor mage fully understood just how alike they were.  Especially the young Templars, already cowed by a life of piousness as children and then given a sacred duty and a suit of armor, suddenly responsible for the lives of hundreds of mages.  Their elders and leaders warned them of attachment, of getting too familiar with a mage. They’d be risking more than their Templar appointment, but degradation of their very souls.  Mages were poison, they were told by some older Templars , the ones who wore the horrors they’d seen in the premature lines on their faces, in the streaks of grey in their hair. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And mages were just as wary.  Why wouldn’t they be, particularly when mages who transferred from another Circle brought tales of Templar abuses like an extra set of baggage. The mages who had grown up in Circles knew not to trust the Templars, especially the ones with permanent frowns and hands that never tremored.  Once their hands stopping shaking, they’d given themselves over completely to their duties, even if that meant the mage in front of them was no longer viewed as human. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And Sia knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that her heart could be given too freely.  She’d loved before, that heady mix of lust and infatuation that swirled together so fiercely, so desperately, that you couldn’t separate them.  She’d been a ward of the Circle since she was eight, and in ten short years had known desire and first love.  She’d known those shadowy corners and dark nooks and the frenzied heat of another mage’s touches. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But she avoided Templars.  Most of the ones in her Circle were decent, if not a bit gruff.  They avoided touching the mages and she’d always suspected that was forbidden unless absolutely necessary.  There had been a few with kinder eyes and gentler tones, but she’d been too young to give them any mind beyond the warnings from elder mages. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t linger around them, young one.  You don’t know what they’re capable of.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t break curfew, for any reason.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t let them trap you.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Don’t.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Mages were safer when her loneliness threatened. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But now...now her heart sought something else.  The new young Templar awakened her curiosity.  But she didn’t even know his name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> A day after Gianna and Beldon’s teasing, Sia was studying, like always, but she'd chosen to stay in her rooms for the afternoon.  Her friends insisted on embarrassing her any chance they got when the new Templar was around and between their distractions and well, the distraction that was him, she needed some time alone. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But the more she attempted to study, the more her mind wandered.  A restlessness - born of boredom, perhaps, or that wanderlust that she’d read about and dreamed of experiencing herself - rose in her.  Because in her dreams, she could see fields of lavender, could smell hay and horses, could feel the sunset on her face.  She wanted, an ache that threatened to destroy her careful plans of study and magic, of control.  She’d known since she was young that her life was not fully her own while in the Circle.  Her life belonged to her books and unforgiving stone walls, and to the Templars she never fully trusted but couldn’t contain a curiousness about. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But part of her remembered those fields and the horses and the kindly farmer down the road from her parent’s estate and she wanted to go back there.  Her parents hadn’t been happy to have a magically talented daughter and had packed her off to the Circle as soon as her talents emerged late one night, the drapes in flames as her nightmares threatened large and looming.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But oh she wanted that freedom again.  And freedom was a threat and a promise and she’d tucked away the want, swearing that she’d serve as a faithful mage and study and be modest and demure to the Templars and the Enchanters.  Because if she couldn’t have freedom, she’d win what she could with talent and intelligence and learning to curry favors with her elders.  And then one day she’d be the head Enchanter and would be let out of the Circle.  And her fields and horses, and maybe even the farmer, would be waiting for her. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She thought about the sun kissing her face and breathing open air.  She closed her eyes and tried to forget where she was.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But she only saw herself, older and tired, leaving the Circle only at the behest of the Templars.  Their shields and armor and swords shined in the sun, and they acted as guard, but they weren’t gone.  They were still with her, no matter how much she learned or how old she got or how badly she wanted to be free.  One of them had blonde hair and hazel eyes, but his nervousness was long gone - too many Harrowings gone wrong, too many mages whispering about revolution, too many atrocities and too few pleasures. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once their hands stopping shaking, they were no longer cautious.  Or kind.  Or bendable. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Somehow, she didn’t want that to happen to the new, young Templar.  It hurt her to think he’d one day be so apathetic that even the sight of a mage leaving the Circle for the first time in decades wouldn’t impact him.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then she remembered she didn’t even know his name. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She found out two minutes later, when she left her room and walked the corridor.  The Maker was kind to her that moment, even if she was being selfish and manipulative.  She knew how to bat her eyelashes and speak softly to those in charge and get what she wanted.  But she didn't want that with him.  Seduction of any sort was a game and for once, just this once, she wanted something purer. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He was walking toward her, eyes tracking straight ahead as she rounded the corner.  His eyes widened and his step faltered, but she kept her pace.  And held his gaze with hers as she stopped within feet of him.  She clasped her hands in front of her, her family ring winking in the waning sunlight, and said, “We've passed each other many times, Ser Templar.  And you've been assigned to my floor but I realized something just now.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He opened his mouth a few times before finally saying, “Oh.  Well.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She smiled softly.  “I don't know your name, nor do you know mine.  I would seek to remedy that, if you're amenable.  I am often in the Enchanter’s offices or personal library, sometimes after curfew.”  The Templar blinked and she continued, her words now a bit rushed.  “But if you check with your Commander, you'll see my name on the exempted list.”  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And she held out her hand, straightforward and simple.  “My name is Sia Amell.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He hesitated, something like curiosity and fear swirling in his eyes.  But finally he grasped her hand in his.  The metal of his gauntlets curled around her bare skin, careful and cold.  A warning she felt shiver down her spine, but it didn’t nullify the other feeling.  That tingle of excitement.  Of opportunity.  “Cullen Rutherford.”  He smiled quickly, then withdrew his hand.  “Did you need something, Miss Amell?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She shook her head, a pleased smile creeping across her face.  “A pleasure, Ser Rutherford.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> He coughed and turned away.  “Oh, um...just Cullen.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The smile grew.  “Well, then.  A pleasure.”  She leaned in slightly, just enough to be a little daring but not inappropriate.  “Cullen.”  She let her smile show teeth, perfect and even, before she walked away. </em>
</p><hr/><p>Sia paced outside the bed chambers of the Arl of Redcliffe.  Her companions, save Wynne, watched her pace.  Alistair looked stricken, Morrigan looked bored, Sten stood guard at the far end of the hall, and Leliana shaped an arrow with her battle knife.  And Zevran-</p><p>Was apparently missing.  Sia blew out an irritated breath and said loudly, “Has anyone seen the Antivan?”</p><p>They all looked at her then.  Alistair’s face crumpled with worry as he rose from his seat.  “Wait - yes.  No.”  He looked up and down the hall a few times, hand going to the pommel of his sword.  “Honestly, I’m not sure.”</p><p>“He’s likely wandering these halls, looking for the Arl’s vault,” Morrigan replied.  She flicked dirt from the feathers around her neck, dark eyes narrowing as Sia approached.  “If I were you, I’d find him.  If the guards catch him digging around in a door lock, they won’t care that we saved the Arl.”  Her lips stretched into a sneer.  Or was that a smile?  Sia could never be certain, even though she’d been traveling with her for a month.  “Best fetch him, Warden.”</p><p>Sia wanted to run a hand down her face, but since both hands were covered in the slimy goop of the undead soldiers they’d fought through to get this far, she thought better of it.  She grimaced and wiped her hands on her robes, to no effect.  “Sten and Leliana, stay here.  You too, Morrigan, in case Wynne needs assistance.”  Surprisingly, the witch didn’t flinch at Sia’s command; she simply nodded and moved closer to the bedchamber door.  </p><p>Sia motioned to Alistair with a quick flick of two fingers.  “Come on, let’s find him.”</p><p>“But the Arl-”</p><p>Sia narrowed her eyes.  “Will be there when we return.  He’s in the very capable hands of Wynne and the other Circle mages.”</p><p>Alistair walked behind her, a large shadow engulfing hers as they passed through several candlelit corridors.  Finally, Alistair said, “Think he’s gotten into trouble, do you?”</p><p>Sia didn’t look back at him.  “Likely.  At the very least, Morrigan was right.”  She passed a hand at the rich tapestries lining the walls.  “These alone are worth a small fortune.  I figured he took one look at his surroundings, another look at the distracted guards, and saw an opportunity.”</p><p>Alistair scoffed.  “An opportunistic mercenary?  Astounding.”</p><p>Sia did turn then, stopping the bigger man in his tracks.  “As much as I normally appreciate your sarcasm, Alistair, I’m not in the mood.  I haven’t been in the mood for weeks, ever since we had to traipse through an entire <em> mountain </em> to go chasing after the ashes of Andraste.”</p><p>Alistair tried to conceal a smile and failed horribly.  “You’re still sore about the small clothes thing, aren’t you?”</p><p>Sia crossed her arms.  “No, I’m sore in general.  And tired.  And I’d like one thing, just one thing, to go right for once.  We’ve had rotten luck so far.”</p><p>The smile dropped.  “Agreed.  If we can get the Arl back on his feet, he can call for the Landsmeet.”</p><p>Sia thrust her chin up at him.  “Which is all well and good, since Loghain needs to be brought down.  But we have bigger matters to attend to.  Like a bloody Archdemon.”</p><p>“And we need an army to fight it.  Hence the Landsmeet.”</p><p>Sia closed her eyes for a moment.  “I despise politics.”</p><p>He elbowed her playfully in the side.  “And yet you want me to take the throne?  Someone’s calling the kettle black, wouldn’t you say?”</p><p>Her eyes popped open, her frown deepened.  “I think it would go a long way to calming fears.  A king who takes the throne during a war and leads his people to victory is seen as a hero.  You would have that reputation, instead of….”</p><p>“Being a royal bastard,” he finished, smile back on his face.  But now the expression was glued there, strained.  </p><p>“I was going to say instead of a Warden.  We aren’t exactly looked kindly upon right now.  Another reason to get rid of Loghain.”</p><p>“Oh.  Right.”</p><p>Their footsteps echoed around them as they wound down two flights of stairs.  Sia came to a stop at the bottom of the last set of stairs and looked around.  “Which way?”</p><p>Alistair pointed right.  “The vault should be just down there.”  He clapped his hands together.  “So, how do you want to handle this?  A little good Warden, bad Warden?”   He scrunched up his face and tried to scowl.  “I can play the bad Warden.”</p><p>Sia bit the inside of her cheek, an attempt to ward off the laughter that threatened to bubble up.  He looked ridiculous, as his expression was more of someone who had smelled something rank than a ferocious warrior.  “Let’s just find him,” she said, managing to keep her tone even.  “If he gets out of hand, you can smack him upside the head again.”</p><p>“Oh, that will work.  I rather like that.”</p><p>But when they reached the vault, they found two guards and no Zevran.  “I was sure he’d be here,” Sia muttered.  She motioned to the guards.  “Have either of you seen an elf, tattoo on the left side of his face?”</p><p>They looked at each other, then the shorter of the two shook his head and replied, “No, Ser.  We’ve been here for hours and you are the first people we’ve seen besides the Arl’s guards.”</p><p>“Hmm, you have that look on your face,” Alistair said as they walked away.  </p><p>“What look?”</p><p>“Well, now you don’t because you just look confused.  But you had that look you get when you think something’s not right.”</p><p>Sia sighed, her shoulders slumping.  “I just thought he’d be down here.  I really did.”</p><p>Alistair shrugged.  “Maybe he has layers?”  At Sia’s scowl, he held his hands up.  “Or not. Well, if that’s the case, he’s off doing other opportunistic <em> assassiny </em>things.  So we’d better find him.”</p><p>An hour later, the only place they hadn’t checked was the garden at the back of the castle.  And that was exactly where Sia found the elf.  She’d sent Alistair back to the Arl’s chambers after a runner had found them, exclaiming the Arl was awake.  She knew she ought to be there as well, but the man had just been saved from the brink of death.  She doubted he was coherent enough for the difficult talk ahead.</p><p>Zevran looked up as she walked toward him and nodded in greeting.  “I’m to assume the look on your face means the Arl is back from his long nap?”</p><p>Sia stopped several feet away from Zevran and the low garden wall that separated them.  She took a deep breath.</p><p>The nightmare that had been the fight in Redcliffe and in the Arl’s Keep was gone, just remnants staining her clothes and staff and the faint stench of decay in her hair.  Birds sang in the air.  The sun shone down, bright and hot.  And Sia felt tendrils of a warm breeze brush her cheek and flirt with the ends of her cloak.  She smelled woodsmoke and fields and open land and she remembered.  </p><p>Her nightmare, the one that had started so innocently, like a lost memory surfacing, now blazed in front of her. It had been innocent, and then it had been tainted, burned.</p><p>
  <em> Their before - hers and his - had been innocent. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then she’d been made a Warden and had already started to cut a bloody swath across southern Ferelden. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then they came to her home, large and looming over Lake Calenhad.  But what they found had been her home no longer.  The bodies of her fellow mages littered the floor like trash and the place stank of decay and death and sickly magic.  It stung her eyes and made her cough.  But it had been her home, and so she fought for it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her home. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Her prison. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The thing that denied her that sweet freedom for so very long. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But her friends were with her, and then so was Wynne.  Sia held out hope that the First Enchanter was still alive, still fighting.  He’d been a good man, had treated all the mages fairly and stood up for them when some of the Templars hedged on too strict. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They raced down gore-encrusted halls, fighting demons and horrors and all the things she’d been afraid would have appeared in her Harrowing.  Demons she could fight, she knew that now.  Alistair and Leliana hacked a path forward, and she and Wynne lit the dark corners with wisps and sent fireballs and missiles of ice over and around their companions, knocking out stealth archers and shades. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And then…..and then…. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> They’d found Cullen.  Trapped. Terrified.  Convinced they were more demons (and she thought, “More?”, as the bottom of her stomach dropped out.)  Horrible sounds came from the door above and she knew, she knew they needed to go, to fight. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> But the Templar on his knees, a warded circle around him, preventing his escape.  He was broken. She knew it the moment she saw his bloodshot eyes and heard the cracks in his voice.  And he wanted her to kill everyone - mages, the First Enchanter, everyone.  Innocent or not. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She couldn’t do it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And she’d left him there on the floor, sobbing, screaming, begging for release.  For death.  For everyone’s death. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> His after had not been hers.  The man on the floor in front of her wanted death, at her hands.  He wanted her to kill her friends, her mentor.   </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The man on the floor in front of her was not the same man she’d known. </em>
</p><p>Sia shook her head, eyes cloudy with memory and long buried longing.  Zevran was looking at her with a curious expression and she finally said, voice hoarse, “What exactly are you doing out here?”</p><p>He waved her forward and she walked around the low garden wall that separated them.  She expected a dozen different scenarios but she did not expect to see him bent over her tongue lolling Mabari, rubbing his belly.  He was still armed to the teeth and sporting a rather nasty slash across his shoulder from the fight, but he didn’t seem to notice the wound.</p><p>“You’re petting my war hound,” she deadpanned.  </p><p>Zevran moved his hand to the Mabari’s neck but kept scratching.  “Indeed I am.  And he is enjoying it, if all the slobber is any indication.”  He craned his neck to look at her.  “Should I stop?”</p><p>Her eyes narrowed.  “Why do you do that?”</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>She sighed, exasperated.  “Couch a question in between facts, like you already know the answer the other person is going to give.”  Her eyes were now slits.  “It’s actually very manipulative because even if the person was going to tell you the opposite of what you wanted to hear, you make them feel guilty for doing so.  So they change their answer to make <em> you </em> feel better.”  </p><p>He stopped scratching Courage’s belly and stood.  The war dog flipped over reluctantly and began pawing at the elf’s boots.  Zevran ignored him and said slowly, “That is….quite the theory, my dear, sweet Warden -”</p><p>“Stop it.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at her sharp tone.  “Stop what?  Calling you my Warden?  Are you not?”</p><p>Sia crossed her arms.  “Stop.  It.  The names, the questions, the assumption that I’ll do whatever you want if you bat your eyelashes at me enough.”  Her voice grew louder.  Harder.  “I’ve known people like you.  You control others, through words or actions or both. I’ve known mages and Templars like that -”</p><p>Zevran’s eyes flashed a warning before he shot forward, coming within a finger’s length of her.  His mouth was a hard slash, almost disappearing into his handsome face.  “Do not compare me to your jailers.  I am not them.”</p><p>She blinked, taken aback by his sudden anger.  “Then why?  Why flirt with me?”</p><p>His face stayed hard, but his tone softened.  “You are beautiful and deadly.  Two things I happen to be attracted to.”  He ducked his head, his braid swinging near his face.  He looked….older, she thought.  Suddenly, terribly older.  And for some reason, that made her sad.  “I will stop, though.  Clearly it bothers you-”</p><p>Sia raised a hand.  “No.  No.”  She sighed.  “You must think I’m angry with you. I’m not, I’m just -”</p><p>“Tired,” he finished, a knowing gleam in his eyes.  “I know the feeling well.  It is a constant thing, this exhaustion.  And you have been traveling and fighting the Blight for what now?  Months?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>“And I understand there are….nightmares,” Zevran continued, his voice going to a near whisper.  </p><p>She started. “How did you know that?”</p><p>A small smile crept across his face.  “Alistair is not nearly as sneaky, or quiet, as he assumes.  I overheard him with Wynne the other night.  He confessed to having nightmares, something to do with being a Warden.”  He shrugged.  “I only assumed you would have the same problem.”</p><p>Sia studied him for a moment.  Finally, she said, “What is this Zevran?”  She drew a circle in the air in front of him. “This serious, honest Zevran.  I rather like him.”</p><p>The elf brightened.  “Oh yes?  Well, far be it for me to deny such a lovely woman what she wants.  Should I stop the flirting and resort to only serious conversations?”</p><p>She shook her head.  “And see, I can’t even tell if you’re actually being serious, or just trying to appease me.”  She snapped her fingers and Courage jumped up, tongue still lolling.  But he came to her side.  Zevran mouthed, “Traitor,” before Sia continued.  “I have enough uncertainty now, with darkspawn and the Archdemon.  When you - <em> if you </em> - decide to be serious with me, let me know.”</p><p>He waited until she was out of earshot to laugh, an empty thing that floated on the wind.  “As you wish, my dear Warden,” he said softly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Zevran gave her exactly four hours, one lavish dinner, and the obviously tiresome attentions of all of the Arl’s men before he approached her.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or rather, fought the urge to pick the lock on her door and instead waited in the hall for her.  He’d made himself as comfortable on the hard stone floor as possible and contented himself with braiding a loop of leather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she approached, Courage bounded ahead of her, skidding to a stop in front of him.  He held out his hand.  In a flash, the strips of dried beef on his palm were down the dog’s gullet.  Zevran tucked away his smile, letting himself think only how fortunate it was that the dog liked him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stopped in front of him, a question as clear as day on her face but before she voiced it, he said, “I wish to talk.  So here I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She crossed her arms and frowned.  “In the hall?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged.  “I could have picked the lock but I figured that was not the best way to win your trust.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia hesitated for a moment, then said, “Fair point,” as she reached over his head to unlock the door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door was barely cracked when Courage stuffed his snout between the wood and stone, pushing his way in.  Sia rolled her eyes at the dog’s enthusiasm but didn’t scold him when he immediately jumped on the high, plush bed she doubted all of the Arl’s guest rooms had.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran followed them in and immediately noticed the chill in the air.  The outer halls and rooms were much warmer, with torches and candles and roaring fires and so many people.  But here, in the quiet darkness, cold raked long fingers down his spine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How he wished he was in Antiva.  But then again, if he were there, he wouldn’t be here.  With her.  Trying to untangle the knot that was this Warden.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did enjoy a good vexing.  This was the best he’d had in a long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it didn’t stay cold and dark long.  A sharp sound, fingers snapping in the dark, drew his attention and just as his eyes adjusted to the dimness, flame sprang to life in her hand.  With a careless, graceful flick of her wrist, the fire leapt from her hand to the fireplace; she pivoted and flicked the magic at the candles on nearby low tables.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fire sat cradled in her palm for just a moment longer, but it was enough for Zevran to see the reflection of flames backlight her eyes and the smallest smile steal across her face before she extinguished the fire.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So talk,” she finally said as she sat in a high backed chair near the fire.  He took the chair opposite her, not bothering to wait for an invitation he figured wouldn’t come.  He knew she was cultured, mannered, but weeks of heavy traveling and fighting didn’t make manners or perfectly good behavior a necessity.  He knew this from experience - it was one of the many reasons why he was a better assassin than a spy.  Spies had to infiltrate, fool, seduce, and that required manners and propriety.  Assassins just needed to make the kill.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seduction was more recreational, in his opinion.  It should never be tied into a job, if it could be avoided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he was yet to understand if he wanted to seduce her, befriend her, or something in-between.  His usual charm hadn’t made much of a dent and at the same time, she talked with him about aimless things - the lack of good food, how foggy this part of Thedas was, how she half expected the feathers on Morrigan’s ridiculous outfit to grow into a bird and flap off one day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They talked about the mundane and normal, a piece of sanity amidst the strangeness of their circumstances.  He’d thought to seduce her and wound up with….what?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A friend?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Crows, even former ones, didn’t have friends. Usually an early grave, or a broken mind. But not friends. That was too….normal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I find myself at a loss,” he finally admitted, his eyes leaving hers and tracking to the rich tapestry on the wall behind her head.  “You do not wish to be seduced, so I don’t bat my eyelashes at you and whisper naughty things in your ear.  But you do not treat me like you do the others, either.”  He shrugged.  “I am confused.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean you don’t know where you fit,” she replied slowly, folding her hands in her lap.  “If it helps, neither do I.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clucked at her.  “Such things you say. You are a Warden, one of the last in Thedas.  What you do and say are important.  The fate of all of us rests on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pointed at him, a jab of her index finger that he could almost feel in his chest.  “And that’s the problem.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>The fate of all of us</span>
  </em>
  <span>?  Who said I wanted that responsibility?  Who said I wanted to have to take care of everyone else?”  She ran the back of her hand across her forehead, smearing ash and other unnameable detritus up into her hairline.  “And I keep having these dreams and it’s all so, so…..”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She dropped her hand and gave him a tired smile.  “But you came here to talk to me.  Not to listen to me whine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran instantly felt guilty.  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> come to talk to her - but more aptly, to let her talk.  She clearly needed someone to confide in.  Who else would she go to?  She and Alistair may be the only Wardens left in Thedas, but the tall blonde man was hardly what he considered a good conversant.  He’d been with the party mere days, but even he could see the way the man fumbled around Sia. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though if he was being perfectly fair, she caused the same reaction - on a smaller scale - with more than a few of his companions.  So he bashed away her unspoken apology with a hand.  “Think not of it.  Clearly you are troubled.  Not sleeping, walking for days, fighting with every ounce of your strength.  And then your nightmares.  I shouldn’t have pried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked slightly mollified by this.  “Or flouted my authority when we were in camp.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded.  “Or flouted your authority.”  He paused.  “Flouted?  Such an ugly word.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow, but a smile tugged at her lips.  “Now you’re criticizing my word choice?  Not all words are pretty, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran leaned back in the chair, letting the plush velvet hold his body in a fire-warmed embrace.  Such luxuries were rare anymore and he silently reveled in the loosening of his spine, the relaxing of his shoulders.   He sunk lower into the chair, enough so that his knees cleared its edges and he could widen the space between them.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Did he dare? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course he did.  There was no fun in it otherwise.  And he felt bad for her, carrying the very fate of the world on her shoulders and having no way to ease any of that stress.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe there </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a call for bit of seduction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face stayed passive as he spread his legs, the shadows too dark and long to see much of anything outside the hazy warmth of the fire’s light.  “If you wish it,” he said, voice now as smoky as the fire, “you could lay some of those troubles on me.  I do not mind.  In fact, I welcome it.”  He ran a hand over the stitched leathers covering his thighs, never breaking eye contact with her.  “You don’t even need to ask. I am here.  Let me unburden you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still expressionless, Sia regarded him carefully.  He felt the heat of her gaze, could hear the even rhythm of her breath, saw the twitch of her hand against the dark velvet of the chair.  And he waited.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was prey and she the devourer.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stood, and he waited, not moving, barely breathing.  She had to come to him on her own, through no influence of his other than some pretty words and a few suggestions.  This was not some other woman, he knew that much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d wanted her from the moment he’d seen her, from the moment she’d become fire and fury barrelling down on him and those poor excuses for mercenaries he’d hired to take her out.  He’d known in an instant they didn’t stand a chance.  Her whole party was skilled, but she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>magnificent</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia stopped outside the triangle created by his legs, looking down at him like she wanted to ask something but she didn’t know exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Their eyes locked.  Her hand twitched against her thigh.  He took in the beauty of her face, with its long nose and brown eyes, and marveled in the fire of her hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Everyone keeps asking me for something,” she said softly, dropping to her knees in front of him.  “Save Ferelden.  Save the Arl.  Save the Urn of Sacred Ashes.  Save this town.  That dog.  Some sword I know nothing nor care about.”  She leaned forward and rested her hands on his.  “No one asks if I need to be saved.  If my nightmares overwhelm me long into the first strands of sunrise.  If my worry for everything, everyone, threatens to consume me.  No one offers me any kind of respite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A slender finger traced his thumb and he dropped his gaze just for a moment to watch.  Her next words brought his eyes back to hers.  “I thought you were manipulating me.”  She shook her head at his little smile.  “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you were manipulating me.  At first.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her hand was warm on top of his, a presence, a weight he felt to the very soles of his boots.  He looked at her and decided whatever she wanted, he would give her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And now,” she said even more quietly, “you’re the only person asking if I’m okay.  You’ve been with us what...two weeks?  And you’ve seen more in me, about me, than anyone else.”  She pulled her left hand away from his and reached up.  Her fingers traced the glass-sharp edge of his cheekbone, a feathery touch that made his hair stand on end.  “But I'm not looking for love, Zevran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made him smile.  “Neither am I.”  He leaned into her touch.  “But can I offer something else?  Something more...primal in nature.  A way to relieve tension, if you will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.”  The word rattled out of her like she’d taken a blow to the head, but the cunning light in her eyes told him otherwise.  “Is that what you’re offering?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She was playing with him.  </span>
  </em>
  <span>The thought thrilled him even more than her proximity.  She was playing coy to his quiet euphemisms.  “Would you rather I offered something else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned in, as did he.  Their lips were inches apart, the kind of gap you could close in a heartstopping second of heady need.  She pressed her body closer.  Her hands slid from his thighs to his hips.  “Is this you being serious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All it would take was one little move and his lips would be pressed to hers.  He allowed himself a shiver then; likely more from the way her hands cradled his hips than the near-realization of a kiss, but still.  The fire was hot, her hands were hot, and his body was flush with want.  “I am as serious as you want me to be,” he whispered.  “Tell me what you want, Warden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, I’d rather you tell me what you want,” she whispered back, fingers now digging into his knife belt.  “You have pretty words stored in that pretty head of yours.  Use them.”  She pulled back a little, eyes gleaming, lips stretched in a wicked smile that shot lust through his body.  “Tell me what you want, Zevran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, it’s a good game,” he replied thickly. He knew if he made a move, Sia would respond, and they’d wind up together in the big bed in her room, sweat and thready moans filling the air, their mouths and hands consumed by fever-hot skin and bone-deep need. But something in the back of his mind warned of consequences unseen. She was pressing too hard, and her eyes were flinty, even as she leaned into him and her hands brushed his hips. “Maybe we should stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Disappointment fluttered over her face, making her frown. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Very gently, he pried her hands off his belt and held them in his own. “We’ve danced around each other for weeks, yes, but I worry.” He pulled her to standing, still holding her hands. “I think the stress, and the blood, and all the fighting has gotten to you. It had gotten to all of us, mi amor but….you need time to process. I worry you came to me in hopes of losing yourself for a few hours and any other time, I would not hesitate.” He caressed her cheek with his left hand. “But now is not the time. I think you need a friend, first.” Zevran grinned, all teeth and promises. “And maybe someday soon, that friendship means I get to see what’s under your robes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She preferred to remember Cullen as the young Templar who blushed whenever she walked by.  The same Templar who rubbed his neck and mussed his hair whenever he couldn’t think of something to say. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The same Templar who had once found himself in her bedchambers.  His knock had been hesitant, and surprise colored his face when she’d opened the door.  She’d shed her heavy robes, which were good for traipsing through the cold Tower.  But in her chambers a fire burned hot and bright, hot enough to make the hair loosened from her bun stick to her neck.  And she’d donned a loose top and a skirt, an outfit she’d bought from a trader who visited the Circle often.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His eyes had darted from her to the bed to the wall, and traced that pattern a hundred times before she approached him, hands out at her sides. “Let me guess,” she said, smiling softly.  “Gianna told you I need help. With what?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He swallowed hard, his eyes tracking over flame-red tendrils of hair that brushed her shoulders “Books,” he said hoarsely.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She laughed and the sound was light, like feathers.  “Ah, that’s one of her favorites.  She usually plays jokes on the new mages but if she’s doing so with a Templar…”  She clucked her tongue.  “Well, that’s clearly not smart.”  She gestured to her desk, covered in parchment.  “And I clearly have no books that need to be carted to the library.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And of course she didn’t.  She and Gianna had arranged the entire farce.  The weeks and months leading up to this moment had thrilled Sia - all the furtive little looks, the slightly more than polite smiles they’d exchanged.  She’d played shy as he slowly grew bolder.  And in honesty, she knew not the exact outcome of the game.  She knew she fancied him, with his beautiful hazel eyes and curly hair and smiles he saved only for her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And she liked his bookishness, which he admitted to after several conversations in the library.  And she was lonely, aching for company.  The more she got to know him, the more she wanted him.  She’d convinced herself that she wanted him honestly, but after months of longing, she’d been done playing coy and naive.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She may have tricked him to get him here, but the true test - the honest test - was based in this moment.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked around, panic crossing his face, but he stilled the moment she touched his cheek.  “You can stay,” she whispered, voice barely carrying over the crackle of the fire.  “I know it isn’t what you were expecting, but after everything we’ve talked about…..”  She dropped her hand, smiled.  “It would be nice to not be lonely for once.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She saw the hesitation, the war between duty and something much darker, baser, on his face.  She knew he would weigh his options carefully.  All in mere seconds.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She didn’t want to chance losing, however.  Not to something so mundane, so ordinary, as duty.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia leaned in, thumb tracing over his jaw, and pressed her lips to his.  It was awkward, the kiss.  Cullen’s breath hitched in his chest and his body froze.  She moved her hand from his jaw to his hair and made a tiny sound of pleasure in hopes of spurring him on.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>But he just stood there, a statue in Templar armor, and eventually she pulled back.  The flush on her face from the torrent of emotions roiling through her served as a proper backdrop to what looked like embarrassment.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She put her hand to her mouth, ever the opportunist, and said softly, “I don’t know what came over me.  I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have -”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He lunged forward then, a barrelling charge of polished armor and determined man.  He pushed her back until she was pressed between him and the wall.  “I shouldn’t,” he whispered harshly, pressing his face into her neck.  She shivered against him and he groaned.  “I shouldn’t be doing this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia put a hand under his chin so she could look at him.  “Why not?  I kissed you.  I would not have done so unless I wanted this, too.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He raised his head then and took a deep breath.  “Are you certain?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She gave a little laugh.  “Do I strike you as the type of woman to allow this to happen without being certain?”  Sia tangled her fingers in his hair and dragged his mouth down to hers once again.  “Shut up and start kissing me already.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He did.  He pressed against her, into her, inhaling the scent of her skin, cupping her head with one hand, the other pinning her hip against the wall.  He struggled to keep up with the passion behind her kiss, but he was a quick learner.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia sighed against him and he just gripped her harder.  His tongue slid against hers, warm and wet and she wanted more.  Desperately, fervently wanted more.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She wanted him out of that armor.  Now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She pushed on him and he broke the kiss, his breath coming in pants, eyes glazed.  “Wha - Sia, is something wrong?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not at all,” she said, smirking.  “I just pictured you pressed against me without all that metal between us.”  She flicked a finger at him.  “Take it off.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He chuckled nervously.  “My armor?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes.”  She stepped toward him, running her hands over sides, smoothing the material at her hips.  “Would you like me to start?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“And there was this one fellow, big, strapping lad -” Zevran eyes appraised Alistair as they walked side by side down the dusty road. “Not unlike yourself, Alistair. Muscles in all the right places.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you ever just….stop?” Alistair groaned, swiping a hand through the air. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop what? My flirting?” Zevran’s face pinched in thought. “It is my way. But I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, so I will cease.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank the Maker,” Alistair muttered, making Zevran laugh. “It’s not funny.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I beg to differ!” It looked like Zevran was going to launch into an explanation when he froze, eyes turning into pinpricks as he held up a hand. “Sia, stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia halted from her breakneck pace a few yards ahead, and when she stopped, everyone else did as well. She already had her staff raised, waiting for a target. “Problem?”’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A dagger flew through the air, spinning point over hilt. Aim true, Zevran’s weapon hit something solid in the bushes just behind Sia. A shriek of pain, a splatter of blood, and a body slumped out onto the road.  “There will be more,” Zevran said softly as he knelt to inspect the body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia motioned for the party to spread out, then approached Zevran. “How did you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Braska,” he spat as his fingers closed around a vial of thick green liquid on the assailant’s belt. “Crow poison. To most, it smells like elderflower.” He popped the cork and held the vial aloft. “Smell that? Elderflower and -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Spider venom,” she said softly. “Fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed. I can smell it from a mile off.” He brushed the hair out of the dead man’s face. “He must be new. Experienced Crows know to rub dirt or ash over their blades and arrows, so it masks the smell but won’t impact the poison,” he mused. “Word may have reached the Crows that I failed.” His mouth quirked up in a humorless smile. “We aren’t exactly inconspicuous, and that village likely sent for help and supplies after we left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Sia repeated. “How many should we expect?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran rummaged through the dead man’s pockets, retrieving a single folded sheet of parchment. “A scout. They will have laid a trap up ahead, expecting us to walk right in, so at least six or seven.” He shook open the paper, scanning it quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia leaned over his shoulder, trying to get a look. “It looks like gibberish.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Code. They must have changed the cypher, as I can only make out certain sentences.” He shrugged. “But I can figure it out, given time.”  He pointed to the hill roughly a quarter of a mile off the road. “We should use that as a vantage point.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or, I could simply fly ahead and take stock of their numbers,” Morrigan said as she approached. She held her black staff at her side, green eyes dark in thought. “‘Tis no effort, and it would give us the upper hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia nodded. “Do it, but don’t take any risks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan nodded once, and was gone in a flash of black wings. “Still creepy,” Alistair said from behind them, sword gripped in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia chuckled. “You constantly say she’s creepy, and yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair raised an eyebrow. “And yet what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran put a hand on Sia’s shoulder before grinning. “And yet you watch her over the fire, when she’s at her little camp away from us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No!” Alistair spluttered. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>watch</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. I’m keeping an eye on everyone. Darkspawn can come out of the bushes, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, yes, the dreaded bush darkspawn. Known for their powers of camouflage,” Sia intoned. “Honestly, Alistair, if you want to bed her, just ask. We’re all hard up out here. I doubt she’d turn you down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know I wouldn’t,” Zevran said with a wink as he and Sia, and the rest of their party, moved toward the hill to await Morrigan’s return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...I….” Alistair looked around, eyes wide, their words still ringing in his ears. The fact that his body had heated at the mere suggestion of him bedding Morrigan made him flush red. “Maker help me.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia groaned at the fourth rock to dig into her back. “Fucking ground. Fucking rocks.” Courage lifted his head in concern and she patted his flank. “Sorry, boy.” She stretched, feeling a pull deep in the muscles of her back. “I hate Ferelden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grumbling, she stood and stretched once more, wishing the pain would lessen. And when she realized it would not, she sighed and left her tent, abandoning its cozy warmth for the cool fall air and the crackle of the nearby campfire. “Wynne, are you awake?” she said as she neared the senior mage’s tent. “I was hoping you had one of those poultices left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She is asleep,” Leliana said as she walked by, scrubbing at her damp hair with a towel. “But I have some left, if you’ve a need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia could have collapsed in relief. “Yes, Maker’s breath, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana chuckled and dropped the towel to dig in her pack. “Well, when you put it that way….” She eyed Sia’s hunched form and the nick of pain on her face. “My tent or yours, Lady Amell?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia held back her eyeroll, but only just. “I should have never told you that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana laughed again and held open the flap of her own tent. “Wine is good for loosening the tongue, and the muscles.” She hefted the small poultice in her hand. “But at least this won’t leave you with a headache in the morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia let Leliana lead her into the tent, which was just as comfortable as her own. But in one corner was a small cairn made from river rocks. And on top of the cairn sat the bronze symbol of Andraste Sia had found in the wares of a roadside trader. It had been an honest gift, even if Sia didn’t trust in any version of the Maker; particularly one as idealistic as Leliana’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What hurts?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia tore her gaze from the makeshift altar and turned to face the Chantry sister. “Middle of my back is killing me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, the Hurlock pommel,” Leliana said wisely. “All right. Take off your robes and lay down, and we can put this on.” She waited while Sia did as she was bid, and then knelt over Sia’s prone form. In only her smallclothes, Leliana marveled at how small the Warden was. The magic she wove on the battlefield, keeping the team safe and setting her enemies alight, made her seem larger than life. Like a hero out of a storybook...or a minstrel’s tale, told late at night near the fire as midnight descended on the world.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she was not infallible, or immortal. The bruising near Sia’s spine was a spectacular mess of black and blue skin, spiderwebbing out into mottled green and yellow. Leliana hissed. “I don’t know that a poultice will help with this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just place it,” Sia said through gritted teeth, turning her head to look back. “And don’t tell anyone. I don’t want to be babied or fussed over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana opened the poultice and dipped her fingers into the cool elfroot balm. “And that’s admirable, Sia, but - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Shaking her head, Leliana gently touched the middle of the bruise. To her credit, Sia made only a small sound of discomfort but didn’t buck against her touch. Leliana spread the balm over her skin, not daring to work it in, lest she cause even more pain.  “You’ll need to lay still for a bit while it soaks in.”  Sia said nothing and Leliana kept working. After a few minutes of silence and with the poultice emptied, Leliana said, “Would you like me to talk while we wait? Or should I leave you alone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia shrugged, feeling the pull of muscles. It was marginally better, the poultice already working against her wound. “It’s your tent. But uh….sure.” She looked back again to see Leliana sitting back on her haunches. “One of your stories, perhaps?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve a question of a more personal nature, if you don’t mind.” Leliana moved around so she could face Sia. “A curiosity, perhaps.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia had cradled her head on her arms so she could look up without discomfort. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Considering I’m stuck and I’m in your tent, sure. I only ask you don’t question me about the Circle. I don’t want to talk about that.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve talked enough about it, and the nightmares still won’t leave me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana waited a beat, tracking the little lines of Sia’s face, skating over the windswept hair pulled nearly from her usual neat braid. “I can fix that, if you like.” She pointed toward Sia’s bright red hair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Yes, that’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pleased, Leliana moved closer and began to undo the mass of knots. When her fingers weren’t enough, she reached over to a small chest and dug around, pulling out a soft bristled brush and a fine pewter comb. She worked gently, but enthusiastically, taking caution and care with the long, thick strands. “So….you and Zevran,” she began as she combed out an untangled section. “I’ve seen the looks, but you also don’t appear to have been satisfied. Are you not tempted?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Surprisingly, Sia didn’t balk at Leliana’s inquiry or huff and turn away. Instead, she leaned into the other woman’s touch, eyes fluttering shut briefly as she felt fingertips massage her scalp. “He is pleasant enough company,” Sia began warily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy on the eyes as well,” Leliana said with a smile. She’d noticed how Sia had enjoyed her ministrations and kept it up, massaging her scalp but not digging in. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a long pause, and then Sia replied softly, “Have you ever wondered if he has tattoos anywhere else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana giggled. “Oh, that was one of the first things I thought about. It’s hard not to wonder.” She leaned in as she worked on another knot. “I went down to the river at the last campsite and didn’t realize he was already there. He was turned away from me so I didn’t see everything but he does have one on his left shoulder blade.” She sighed. “A pity the water wouldn’t let me see if it went all the way down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia snorted, managing to keep her smile from looking lecherous, or at least she hoped she was successful in that. “And you’re doing a fine job of avoiding my question,” Leliana continued. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You ask if we’re fucking?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her fingers stilled in Sia’s hair. Sia wasn’t sure if it was the sentiment behind the words, or the word choice itself. Sia knew better than to think Leliana was some blushing Chantry sister; she killed too quickly, too thoroughly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>too prettily</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she lied too easily. Sia admired that. There was something like kinship between them almost instantly, even if the bard (and oh Sia knew she was a bard, what else would she be) evaded some difficult truths and couched her lies between pretty words. It was no matter. No one in their merry little band of murderers was honest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you?” Leliana asked as she began a new braid.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia sighed. “We are not. Zevran believes we will. I’m sure at some point I’ll be too cold, or too lonely. Or bored.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And he spurned my advances in Redcliffe. That hasn’t happened in some time. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not a bad thing, to want companionship, if even for a few hours,” Leliana replied softly. Sia watched the concentration on her face flash to something softer, gentler. But a moment later it was gone, replaced by singular focus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never said it was. But I prefer to chase, rather than be chased.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Leliana pause, her blood heating at the implication of Sia’s words. Slowly, she tied off the new braid and glanced at Sia’s back. The bruises had faded and while the worst of it was still a greenish hue, it was a vast improvement. “I think your poultice should be dry enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The swift change in topics made Sia blink. “Right.” She smiled at Leliana. “I very much appreciate the help. I don’t think I’ve got the flexibility to reach that spot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana chuckled. “If you did, I’d happily point you to a few places where you could make a lot of money.” She helped Sia to her feet and held out her robes. “And no need to thank me. I expect most of us would do the same for another in the group.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps.” Sia grinned. “Though I think Morrigan would just fireball Alistair and end it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very likely. They really don’t enjoy each other’s company, do they?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not one bit.” Sia tugged her robes in place, feeling the stickiness of the poultice rub against the velvet. “Thank you, Leliana.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana reached out and flipped down the collar of Sia’s robe. “Of course.”  She paused, thinking. “Are you going to seek out Zevran? I’m sure he won’t mind being pursued.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia shook her head, newly tied braids brushing her cheek. “Not tonight. We’ve come to an accord for now, though we’ll see how long it holds.” In one move, she cupped Leliana’s head in one hand, resting her other hand on the woman’s hip. “Care to share a few hours together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana felt as though she would have melted into the ground if Sia wasn’t holding her up. “Oh.” The light in Sia’s eyes sparked like fire and Leliana’s knees buckled. “But your back,” she protested weakly, eyes locked on Sia’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks to a beautiful Chantry sister, it’s much better.” Sia brushed her lips over Leliana’s cheek. “I was hoping to thank her properly.” She pulled back, concern on her face. “Unless you aren’t one to be chased.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Consider me caught,” Leliana whispered before surging against Sia’s warm body, kissing her with fervor.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>One week later</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, Denerim. It is no Antiva City.” Zevran stopped and looked at the market in the distance, taking in the slow curls of smoke from chimneys and the clang of armor as guards made rotations. “But it smells like desperation and crime, so it will do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia shook her head, chuckling. “What does desperation and crime smell like?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like bad stew, mud, and since we’re in Ferelden, dog.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia fell into an easy pace with the elf, watching as the others scattered to follow their own whims while on leave in the city. She and Alistair had made plans to meet at the Gnawed Noble tavern, deciding it was best to split up for a few hours to not raise suspicion this close to Loghain’s domain. Sia had covered her long red hair and Alistair had abandoned his Templar armor for something more practical and less eye catching. “So, what shall we do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, my purse is a bit heavier after that downed merchant caravan.” He eyed her closely. “Do not think I did not notice you splitting your cut between all of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged, keeping her gaze on the throngs of people milling about the city market. Sia wasn’t eager to have her pockets picked or attract too much attention, so she kept a wary eye on anyone paying them too much mind. So far, everyone was too busy haggling, eating questionable street food, and giving the Templars stationed at their posts a wide berth. “It’s just coin, Zevran. We can always get more and I’ve no need of it now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tsked at her, wagging a finger in her face. “But how can you buy yourself something pretty if you don’t have any gold?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes amicably. “Not all of us desire fine silks and jewels. And even if I did, the life we lead now doesn’t lend itself toward finery.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They wove through the market, dodging stalls groaning under bottles of perfume, bolts of cloth, books, scrolls, and at one table, just shovels. Zevran shot Sia a look and they both laughed as they passed the small dwarven woman selling the shovels. “Ah, but you should have all the finest things.” He stopped, grabbing her hand to spin her around. “Cream silk against your beautiful red hair, as a start.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing about a dress that would push up my ‘lovely bosoms’?” she teased, shoving his shoulder playfully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have called your bosoms lovely before, so I don’t wish to repeat myself,” he replied with a smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tease.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me?” He had the gall to look abashed. “You caught me. Damn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fell into a companionable silence as they milled about. Sia had felt a bit guilty after her contrived pass at him in Redcliffe (though to be fair, he did start it), so she’d gone to him to apologize. Zevran had brushed her apology off like he was swatting a fly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You have nothing to apologize for. These times are strange, my dear Warden. And while I find you a perplexing, delightful….delectable puzzle of a woman, it is no surprise you fell victim to my charms. But I do not, and never have, pushed myself on someone unwilling or someone trying to use me for another purpose. If you come to me, I want it to be because you want to.” He looked her over, noting the new braids. “I make no designs on you or your attentions. We are all free to do as we wish, with whomever we wish.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia chewed on the inside of her cheek, thinking. “I hope we’re friends, Zevran.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We are indeed.” He gave a small bow. “What’s a little murder and flirting between friends?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>For the first time in a while, Sia didn’t overthink her next move. She drew him close to her, arms around his chest, and squeezed. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “It’s been a long time since I had a friend.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“The pleasure is mine, mi amor,” he said softly, returning the hug. Zevran pulled back to look at her, noting the flush on her cheeks. “I should write down this day. This is the first time I’ve ever seen you blush.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go kick rocks,” she said with a laugh as she pulled away. “And not to overinflate your ego-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Too late.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She sighed, still smiling. “But most people can’t make me blush, so consider it a win.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah, one of my finest moments, truly. How shall I top this tremendous occasion?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re incorrigible.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s true. They used to post warnings about me at the Antivan border.” Sia squeezed his hand once before turning to walk away. “I just have to know…” Zevran said, trailing off to wait for her to turn around. “What does she taste like?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia closed her eyes, remembering Leliana’s skin and lips and the taste of her folds slippery over her tongue. “Like honey and wood smoke and clover.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Zevran sighed. “Delightful. You are a lucky woman to have sampled that fruit.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She grinned wickedly. “What’s a little bedsport between friends, right?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Zevran waited until he was back in his tent to groan and dig the heel of his hand against his throbbing cock. “Braska, that woman is going to be the death of me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m off to spend a ridiculous amount of money at only the shadiest of shops,” Zevran announced to her as they neared the end of the market stalls. “This is all very well and good but it’s not exactly to my tastes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meet at the tavern later?” Sia jerked a thumb behind them. “I’m going to catch up with Alistair and see that he doesn’t get into any trouble while we’re here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Knowing him, he’d walk headlong into an ambush.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are unfortunately correct.” She swooped in to plant a kiss on his cheek. “Buy yourself something pretty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He returned the affection in the Antivan way, with a kiss to each cheek, nothing more than a chaste brush of his lips. “In order to do that, I need to go to The Pearl.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where’s that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yours, or the tavern and brothel?” He ducked, laughing, she swatted at him. “Down several dirty alleys in the worst part of the city, the places where thieves and marauders and whores ply their trade.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then we should definitely go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran barked out a laugh. “Oh my Sia, you never cease to amaze me.” He reached out and looped a curl of red hair around his finger. “Did you cause this much trouble in the Circle?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bit of memory, old and worn and mulled over too many times to count, rose before her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hazel eyes and curly gold hair; his hands shaking as he touched her. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“I caused my fair share,” she replied gamely with a smile. “Now go on. Try not to lose your pants too quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My constant problem,” he shot back as he walked back into the crowds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia lingered in the market for a few more minutes, browsing some fetching leather goods with an interested eye. The stall owner, noting the human woman toward the back of the small crowd of shoppers, waved her over. “Come, come!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia approached slowly. She had caught sight of a bit of deep olive green leather peeking out from behind racks of cuirasses, gloves, and dusters.  “What is that item there, the olive green I see?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shop owner, a human woman in her late fifties, grinned. “Ah, you’ve got good eyes and even better taste, my dear. Here.” She pulled out a gorgeous pair of leather boots, the green of the leather shifting into a golden brown as the sun hit them. “Dalish, they are, and handmade. None of that mass produced, slave labor shite.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia took the boots gently and ran a finger over the scrollwork along their sides. “Can these be fitted, or resoled if the need arises?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aye, that and they can be stretched a bit, but not too much. Don’t want to ruin that embroidery.”  The old woman leaned in, her watery blue eyes sparkling behind her thick glasses. “Got a sweetie, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia smiled. “A very good friend who might enjoy these.” She put the boots down on the table. “How much?”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia sat down with a thump, her face flushed and her brow sweaty. She was regretting dancing in the boots she’d worn around town all day but she certainly wasn’t leaving the party any time soon. She straightened the loose pins in her hair before raising a finger to the barmaid. “Another round, please!” she said in a near-shout over the din of the tavern.  “You’re not going to just sit here all night, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No,” Alistair protested from his hunched position. “I just….it’s very loud in here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed, the sound bright. “It’s a tavern. They tend to get loud, especially the more people drink.” Sia held out a hand to him. “Come dance with me.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair looked at her outstretched hand as though it were an adder posed to strike. “I uh….” He leaned in. “I don’t know how.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh pish. It’s easy. Plus there’s so many people out there, no one will notice if you miss a step or two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair could feel his will crumbling. She was so pretty right then, smile wide and red curls wavy and loose. “Maker’s breath,” he muttered as he rose and took her hand. It was a delicate thing, like bird bones beneath tanned skin, and he could feel the metal of her family ring, warmed from the heat of her body. His own hand felt too big, like he’d crush hers under his clumsy fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She must have sensed his hesitation, saying, “Alistair, it’s okay if you don’t want to. I just thought you looked lonely sitting by yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, let’s do this. I guess if I’m going to make a fool of myself, it’s best to do it in a crowd full of drunks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With a grace born out of training and natural ability, Sia whirled them out onto the packed dance floor. She grinned at him as she steered him away from most of the crush of people. “Okay so just follow with the beat of the minstrels. Nothing fancy.” She started to sway slowly, giving him a moment to adjust the distribution of his weight. It took a minute but Alistair eventually started to move with her, his hands holding hers gently, their bodies a respectable distance apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t bite,” she said, leaning in so he could hear her. “Unless you ask nicely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been spending too much time around Zevran,” he grumbled good-naturedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to think I’m rubbing off on him, not the other way around,” she said with laughter in her voice. She shuffled into a new pattern, doing so slowly so Alistair could follow the gentle back and forth two-step. “This is nice, you know. Just getting to chat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair looked down at Sia and her soft smile and wild red curls she’d finally released once they were in the tavern and felt a tightness in his chest. She was not interested in him, and while he had a bit of a crush on her, he knew they were not meant for each other. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she was beautiful, and clever, and had a quick wit that could tease or scald, depending on her mood. There were times he wished he had some of her skill. But he didn’t envy her magical powers, or her life in the Circle. He may have never officially served, but he’d heard stories of magic gone awry and failed Harrowings. These stories were supposed to both serve as a warning and a cautionary tale, since often those stories were bookended by tales of Templars who had been seduced by mages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair was doubtful that the seduction stories were quite so one-sided, with Templars falling victim to the machinations of deceitful, lustful mages. Trap people in a building with tight quarters, plenty of stress, and no real freedoms and it was bound to happen. But he also knew that the imbalance of power was steadfastly in the Templars’ favor - and if he’d been honest with himself a few years ago, that imbalance was one of the reasons he never went through with the final steps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song ended and everyone applauded briefly before the minstrels walked off stage. Now void of music, the tavern swelled with chatter and the sound of plates and cups being shuffled around. “And now you’re free,” Sia said as she bowed magnanimously. “Thank you for the dance, good ser.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair grinned toothily. “I think I only stepped on you twice?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not even. Just the once as we got started. You’ve more grace than you give yourself credit for.” Sia pointed toward the tables the party had pushed together. “And if we don’t head back, that round of drinks is going to disappear.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tugged Alistair back over to the table and he sat down, sandwiched between Sia and Wynne. “You looked like you had fun,” Wynne said as she handed Alistair a mug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was nice,” he admitted, taking a sip. “The Chantry isn’t exactly a dance hall, so it was different. But nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne patted his arm, her kind eyes taking in his slightly red face and sweaty brow. “Good for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night lingered on and between the drinks and the jokes and the stories, Alistair found himself staggering outside around midnight for some fresh air. Denerim looked different in the dark, torches blazing along the multiple paths so people didn’t lose their footing and have to be fished out of the ditch by the city guard. He chuckled as he watched two women walk by arm in arm and very clearly drunk, talking at the top of their lungs about the intricacies of silk stockings.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaned against the wall and briefly shut his eyes, enjoying the cool wind that whipped by.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You should be careful,” a voice said from near his left side. He started, instantly snapping into a defensive posture, hand going for the dagger he always kept at his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you shouldn’t lurk in the dark like some kind of criminal,” he replied quickly, eyes searching the shadows for the figure attached to the voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s dangerous,” the voice said again. It was a man’s voice, low but even-toned. “She’ll do what she wants and lead you into waters so black you’ll wish you had drowned.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...what does that even mean? Who are you talking about?” he demanded, slowly walking toward the source of the voice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The haze of torchlight and smoke obscured everything outside of a small radius, but the voice - and the man attached to it - stepped forward to be seen. He looked so familiar….</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Templar from the Circle Tower. The man we left trapped and broken before dealing with Uldred.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the time, Alistair knew there was no way to break the man out from his magical cage. He’d tried smiting the magic, Sia had tried to break the spell, and Wynne had cast several glyphs to no avail. And they were running low on potions and energy, having fought through multiple floors full of arcane horrors and demons. They’d discovered later that all survivors had been rescued, and he had made discreet inquiries into who was still alive.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when he told Sia that the Templar - Cullen - was alive and physically well, she’d simply replied, “That’s good. I’m glad he’s all right.” They’d not stuck around much longer, eager to get back to Redcliffe and cure Arl Eamon. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had been a little surprised that she’d not gone to check on Cullen herself, but he also didn’t know the extent of their relationship. And she’d given nothing away to indicate it was anything but a standard Templar/Circle mage acquaintance.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he thought about it in the later days and weeks, he remembered something Cullen had said while ranting about mages and magic and the evils of their powers, and this was after Sia had convinced him they weren’t illusions sent to torment him further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’ve done things, to me and the other Templars,” Cullen groaned, slamming a fist into the stone floor. The force of the blow made the floor vibrate beneath them, shock waves from the man’s strength and agitation like ripples in a pond. “They mean to kill us all and turn the tower into a font of blood magic and demons. I won’t allow it, and neither should you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen hung his head and Alistair could see tears on the man’s face. “You should kill them all.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia had approached the magical prison then, her back stiff and her hands clenched at her sides. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” she replied softly as she knelt before him. “Cullen, it’s me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Templar snapped his head up, a snarl on his face. “I know.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia seemed startled at the anger in his voice and glanced back at her party. “Cullen, we can’t get you out of here until Uldred is dead. Just hang on.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want nothing from you.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The quiet, seething hatred in Cullen’s voice made Alistair concerned and he walked forward to put a hand on Sia’s shoulder. “We should go.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I agree.” She stood and cast a final, sad glance at Cullen. “Let’s finish this.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t trust her,” Cullen said as he approached. He was in Templar armor but his face was gaunt, his eyes hollowed pits with dark circles below them. “You shouldn’t trust any mage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That seems a bit harsh,” Alistair said slowly, not wanting to spook the man. “And Sia’s a Warden now. I don’t know what happened between you two - “</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She left me. She took up the banner of the Wardens and left me and if she’d been there when Uldred attacked, we could have….I could have….”  He dropped his gaze to the ground and Alistair saw his left hand tighten into a fist. “She’ll get you all killed. Never trust a mage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he’d been worried before, now Alistair was downright concerned. No Templar who hated mages should serve, and yet here was his man, broken and in desperate need of care, not the rules and regulations of the Order. “You still want to serve?” he asked gently, taking another step toward Cullen. “That seems like a bad idea right now. It’s only been a couple of months since the Circle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m leaving,” the man spat out. “For Kirkwall.” His other hand balled into a fist. Alistair dug his heels into the ground, preparing to charge if the man turned violent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s a long ways away,” he said, trying to keep the conversation lighter. “Kirkwall, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s for the better,” Cullen spat, nostrils flared as he smirked. “Greagoir decided I was fit enough for duty, just not in his tower. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> have to leave </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> home just because of mages. The Knight Commander in Kirkwall keeps a leash on the mages. They’re not even allowed to walk through the city.” His expression turned into something ugly, full of blind hatred fueled by trauma. “It won’t be like here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair felt for the poor man. He’d clearly been through a horrible experience but to flat out hate mages seemed so </span>
  <em>
    <span>extreme</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was caught off-guard by the growl in Cullen’s voice. “I uh….I’m sorry. For everything that happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flickered in the other man’s expression, his features softening for just a moment. “I know it’s not her fault. But I feel so betrayed,” he whispered harshly. “Is she well?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair’s chest tightened at the turnaround in Cullen’s demeanor, feeling both sympathy toward the Templar and protectiveness toward his fellow Warden and friend. “We’re two of the last remaining Wardens and there’s an Archdemon,” he said, his words biting. Then he sighed. “Yes, she’s as well as can be.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cullen nodded, his fists uncurling, and he slumped forward. “That’s good. Tell her...nevermind.” He straightened and squared his shoulders. He looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>haunted</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like a shell of a man, one who had seen too much. “Take care, Warden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair waited until the man had disappeared into the darkness before leaning back against that same wall and wiping a hand down his face. Any trace of the delightful tipsiness was long gone, replaced by a cold pit in the bottom of his stomach.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That could have been me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW of parental abuse and neglect</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Upon leaving Denerim and headed to Orzammar</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The night the demons came for her, she was alone. Defenseless. Trapped. She’d survived the Harrowing and avoided the worst of the Templars to be beset upon in her dreams. Claws rent flesh, teeth punctured hearts, and rivers of blood ran through some hellscape of the Fade. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>In the distance, she swore she saw the tower at Ostagar and heard the cries of hurlocks and soldiers alike as metal clashed on metal. The din was overwhelming. Her vision blurred, her head rang. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And she ran.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She tore across the battlefield away from the tower and the main horde. All thought of her duty as a Warden, the orders she was given….gone. She knew, somehow, if she didn’t reach Loghain by the time the King’s forces reached the middle of the field, all would be lost. In the distance she heard Alistair scream her name but she kept going, heart in her throat, lungs on fire. The pitted, scarred land tried to trip her up every few feet and she stumbled more than once. But as she neared the hill where Loghain’s men were supposed to be stationed, the space was empty save a lone figure.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shrouded in shadow and wreathed in smoke, it did not step forward to the light. Blood and sweat hazed her vision and she tried to make out who was there, taking up space where an entire army should have been. “I see one of you has more fortitude than the rest. That is good to know.” The figure bowed its head. “When the time comes, I hope to see you there. Few humans are quite so strong.” It paused, and then said more quietly, “I apologize for what’s about to come.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And the figure dissolved into inky black smoke that shot up and over the hill and into the distant night. Sia watched it go, confused and concerned. But the tap on her shoulder made her whirl around, instantly forgetting the mysterious figure. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen stood behind her, young and hopeful, gleaming in polished armor. As handsome as the day she met him. His smile was gentle, but there was a spark of wickedness in his eyes that turned her knees to jelly. She’d seen that spark before, starting when she’d lured him to her room and seduced him in one swift move that had made even her head spin. Her hands itched to touch him, hold him, to run her fingers through his hair and hopelessly muss it.  The sounds of battle behind her faded to a low rumble and all she saw was him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen took her hand and raised it to his lips. The brush of his lips on her bruised knuckles was so gentle she almost didn’t feel it. The simple gesture made her heart race. “Cullen, why are you here?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“To rescue you. You shouldn’t be here. It's too dangerous.” He cast a quick glance around. “Come. We should be far away before the worst of it.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait, I was …..I was supposed to do something,” she said faintly, looking around the battlefield once more. But behind her was only deep green-grey mist and dark shapes that looked vaguely like hills. Even the hill the shadowy figure had appeared on moments before was gone, replaced by endless open space suffused in green light.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come with me,” Cullen said, taking her other hand in his. “I know somewhere quiet. Private. We won’t be bothered there.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>An instinct, like an itch, rose up in her. Something was wrong. Something was very, very </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>wrong</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. She looked again at Cullen, at his beautiful face and his deep hazel eyes and lips she knew fit just right against her own. And for the briefest flicker of a moment, something flashed under his features, alien and terrifying. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The scratching of claws filled her ears. She could taste blood and fear in equal measure. But the low, sweet thump of desire flushed through her nerves as she stared at the man before her. Sia tried to pull away so she could turn to view her surroundings once more in hopes it would make sense...but his grip became viselike, more solid than iron. The metal of his gauntlet bit into her skin, so near to wounding, and she knew.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Leave me, demon!” she shouted, pulling magic from her body, letting it cascade in a wave of dark blue energy, violent and tempestuous and uncontrolled. It smashed into Cullen’s form and he dissolved into nothingness. She was breathing too hard, heart hammering in between her ribs, and she felt sick and weak. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would you do that?” came his voice from behind her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She whirled and cast again, but was thrown back by an unseen force emanating from Cullen’s form. Her head cracked on something hard as she landed and her vision went white with pain. The last thing she saw was the form of Cullen advance on her slowly, like a cat stalking its prey. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Except this cat had claws and teeth and horns and the stature of an impossibly beautiful woman…..</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sia, stop!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia whirled, vision cloudy with pain and fear. Her mouth was dry but her throat felt like she’d swallowed oil and she coughed, feeling something viscous and fleshy in her mouth. She spat to the side and tasted blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sia, mi amor, it’s me. Please sit down, you’ll hurt yourself,” he said slowly, hands out and empty in front of him. “Sia.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Be gone demon!” she screamed before collapsing to the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne rushed forward, checking her pulse and her breathing. “Unconscious,” the older woman said. “Help me turn her over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran leaned down and helped Wynne move Sia closer to the fire. Leliana had pulled a blanket from her own tent and laid it on the ground. “What happened?” she whispered to Zevran, who could only shrug, concern etched into the lines on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By now, everyone else in camp had rushed over, but Alistair had swiftly moved Sten and Morrigan back on watch, mentioning it would be a fine time for them to be ambushed while they were all distracted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne began a more thorough exam of Sia’s limp form. “She’s still breathing, but her heart is beating too fast.” Wynne motioned to her tent. “My satchel, and quickly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Both Alistair and Zevran moved toward the tent but Alistair said, “Stay with Wynne” and disappeared inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran looked back to the small crater in the ground where she’d cast a fireball not moments before, narrowly missing him as he’d approached. Zevran had seen her stumble out of her tent just as he’d come back with an armload of firewood. Her eyes were wide and unseeing, power coiling around her like a phantom limb,and the very air crackled with electricity and something far more dangerous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran had dropped the wood and rushed forward, but just as he and Wynne approached, Sia had cast her spell. He’d felt the heat of the fireball graze his right side but in that moment, the only thing that mattered was getting her to wake up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did not know what had transpired but he knew what a nightmare looked like and Sia had, in that moment before the spell, looked hunted and afraid for her life. Not an expression he’d ever seen on her before, and one he was eager to never see again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair came back with the satchel and Wynne went to work, leaving them to watch with wary, worried expressions. After a few tense moments, Leliana came to Zevran’s side. “I don’t like feeling helpless,” she admitted in a whisper. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Neither do I.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was nothing they could do but wait.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“We should stay in camp for another day, or go back to Denerim. I can’t imagine she will be able to travel after...that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair shot Leliana a look. “And you’ve been around Sia long enough to know she doesn’t like being fussed over,” he snapped, raking fingers through his hair. To Leliana’s credit she didn’t seem to take offense, just waited him out. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alistair,” Zevran said gently. “I know you’re worried. We all are.” He glanced over at Sten, who was sitting outside Sia’s tent with his massive greatsword at his side. “Even Sten is concerned.” He cocked his head. “I think.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair laughed but there was no humor in it. “If something happens to her -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She is strong, a fighter,” Leliana replied. “And Wynne does not think there is permanent damage. What we can do for her is ask her what she needs, once she is awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They fell into silence as Alistair stoked the fire. Sparks flew as the new logs popped. The night drug on, and Alistair sent the others back to their tents just as Wynne came out of Sia’s. The older mage looked exhausted and her hands were stained with elfroot and other herbs, her fingers coated in splotches of green, brown, and pink. “She’s stable,” Wynne said as she sat down near Alistair. “Go get some rest. I’ll stay up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair shook his head. “I want to be here when she wakes up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne smiled. “That’s kind of you, Alistair. Courage is in her tent and can alert us if something is wrong. And you know she won’t like -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Being fawned over, I know,” he replied glumly. “I’ll just keep repeating ‘I’m the senior Warden’ until she sees reason.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you let me know how that goes,” she said, trying not to laugh. “That woman’s more stubborn than a mule.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair stared into the fire, twisting his hands together. “Wynne, what was that? A nightmare? A hallucination? Should we be worried?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne shook her head, all joviality falling off her features. “A little of both, I suspect. When a mage’s powers first manifest, most of the time it’s harmless. Turning water to ice, snuffing out a candle just by pointing at it. But some have rather…..violent magical awakenings.” She tapped her chin with a forefinger in thought. “There is a theory - and this is a theory, mind you - that mages who have a violent or disruptive birth to their powers also have a unique connection to the Fade. Some of them may even be Dreamers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair swallowed hard. “That sounds bad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “It can be for some, especially mages who do not understand their own abilities. That is most definitely not Sia. She has a finely tuned sense control, born out of the Circle’s education and her need for perfection. But if the theory is right and she has a tie to the Fade….” Wynne drifted off and then sighed. “I do not know what that means. I can make potions to help her sleep dreamlessly. But she may have needs I cannot attend to out in the field. I’m going to write the Circle in the morning and see if they can provide any assistance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He let all that rattle around in his head for a moment before replying. “So she had a...violent awakening to her magic? Really? I’m having a hard time seeing that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne nodded. “It’s not my story to tell but yes, she did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His heart sank. “I’m worried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So am I.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia dreamt not of the Fade, but of a man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was a week before she and Cullen were able to find proper time alone. Too many watchful eyes were present at all times, and they had to plan carefully if they were going to sneak away. Thankfully, the old storeroom with a reputation as a “meeting spot” for mages looking for a little time together had been cordoned off and placed under lock and key by the Templars.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And Cullen had a key. Not all the Templars did, but the ones who could be trusted with such responsibility, immune to temptation. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia wasn’t about to point out that by using his key for this, Cullen was clearly tempted. They’d kissed in her room the week before and as Cullen had pinned her to the wall, she’d started to pry off his armor. But as she tried to work the straps and buckles holding the metal to his body, he’d become worried they’d be found out. They were in her room! Anyone could walk in! Mages in this tower were given rooms with doors but no locks and they were tempting fate for want of greedy mouths and hands on each other’s bodies.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And now Cullen was unlocking the door to the abandoned storage room deep in the basement of the tower where no one went. His hands shook but he took a steadying breath just as he heard soft footsteps on the stairs behind him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A Templar all alone in the dark?” she whispered in his ear. “Whatever could he be doing down here?” Sia ran delicate fingers along the side of his neck and he shivered. “I suppose I can think of a few things.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As soon as they were in the room and the door was shut and locked, Cullen whirled on her. The hunger written on his face made her heart jump. But he made no move toward her. “I hope this is all right,” he said, motioning to the candles he’d set up in advance.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s perfect,” she said as she pushed away from the door. “How did you get blankets down here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah they were in the storage crates in the back of the room.” He looked rather pleased with himself and Sia grinned in response. “They might be a bit musty still but -”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You worry too much. It’s sweet.” She reached inside her robes and pulled out a small metal flask, offering it to him. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He looked from her to the flask and back before taking it from her. The bourbon warmed his throat and he spluttered a bit. Sia took the opportunity to sidle up to him, reaching around his body to take the flask back. Just her presence so near made him freeze up. “I uh - thank you. It’s chilly down here.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia took a drink from the flask then set it down on a nearby crate. “We should fix that.” She ran a finger under the edge of one of his pauldrons. “Show me how it comes off.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He gaped at her, then said quickly, “It’s a process.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Educate me.”  She sank to the floor where the blankets had been nestled into a makeshift bed, leaning back on her arms, face upturned with a wicked curiosity.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And he did. It took time, and he explained the process as he went. Metal left his body in pieces and parts, and Sia noticed he calmed as he methodically stripped out of his armor. It had been her goal to soothe his nerves but she was also curious. She’d never seen him out of his armor and she wanted - needed - to see the man below.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As the last piece was removed and placed to the side, Cullen stood before her in a thin, unbelted gambeson. “It’s not the most sightly of garments,” he admitted self-consciously. “But I couldn’t walk around in something other than my armor.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She crooked a finger at him. “Come here.”  He knelt by her and she reached up to touch his cheek. “Be here with me.” He nodded and she pulled him down over her, smiling as he caught his weight on his hands. “Kiss me, Cullen. You went to all this work and preparation. I won’t have another minute of you not touching me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen groaned, swooping down for a fevered kiss. His desire was a tangible thing, plucking at the collar of her loose robe to tug it down over one shoulder. It pushed his thigh in between her knees, then higher. It made his free hand tangle in her hair and tip her head back so his lips and teeth and tongue could explore her neck. And his desire made her shudder against him so sweetly, so honestly, that it took her breath away.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cullen,” she said hoarsely. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He stopped licking along the lines of her collarbone to look up with heavy-lidded eyes. “Is something wrong? Are we going too fast?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head. “Not fast enough.” Sia arched against him, pushing herself against his knee, seeking friction. “Fuck me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen dropped his head with a loud groan. “Maker’s breath.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia reached up to grip his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Fuck. Me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia awoke with a massive headache and a bone-deep exhaustion that weighed down her body like a boulder. She groaned, digging the heel of her palm into her forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re awake.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cracked one eye open, feeling it crack the crust that had grown there overnight, and peered to her right. Zevran was propped up against her travel knapsack, a book in his hands. He looked so tired, so drawn and worn and her heart ached to see him like that. “I am. What time is it?” Her eyes widened in sudden realization that something was wrong. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran bit his lip, the worry etching deeper into his face. “Do you remember last night at all?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She searched her memory but came up blank. “I remember going to bed, mostly because Courage kept trying to steal my blanket.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing more?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cast her gaze once more toward him, scanning his face, his posture...and settled on the strange mark on the right side of his armor. It hadn’t been there yesterday. And it looked distinctly like a scorch mark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she knew. That old tie to the Fade, held back with one hand for years and years, had resurfaced. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She felt sick to her stomach and rolled to her side, heedless of the way her body protested. “What did I do?” When he hesitated, she got to her knees and crawled over to him. “Please tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran kept his explanation void of any emotion and only what he witnessed and what the others had done to help. By the time he was done speaking, Sia looked like she was going to throw up. She ran a shaking finger over the scorch mark on his armor. “I could have killed you. I could have hurt anyone in camp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held her hands in his, squeezing gently. The reassurance in his touch made her slump and she put her head on his knee. “I won’t lie and say you couldn’t have hurt someone, but you didn’t. And what matters is figuring out what happened, mi amor,” he said softly.</span>
</p>
<p><span>She sniffed. “I haven’t done anything like that since I was a child. That’s how my family knew to send me to the Circle. I lit the curtains on fire and almost burned the house down with everyone inside.” </span><em><span>Mother and Father were so disappointed they’d given birth to a mage. Generations of Amells were free of magic and yet….they were the ones so unlucky to be saddled with a magical daughter.</span></em> <em><span>And they never hesitated. The Templars were at our home in less than three days, and I had to leave everything behind. But those three days were the worst of my life. No one was allowed to speak to me and I was locked in a room in the cellar, left to sit shivering in the damp cold.</span></em></p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Sia,” he breathed out, tucking a hand under her chin so he could look at her. “I am so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d said all that out loud without fully realizing it. Sia laid her head back down in his lap, letting tears run silently down her face while he held her.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's the Blight, so everyone drinks. Thank goodness for Warden stamina or Sia would be drunk all the time. Wildwine IS a thing with the Chasind.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I was worried, you know.” Leliana’s soft Orlesian lilt was quiet as they walked toward the mountain path that would lead them to Orzammar’s gates. “I know you don’t want to discuss it. And I won’t make you. But I was worried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia grimaced before looking at Leliana. “I’m not good at this, Leli.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” She touched Sia’s arm. “But if you need me, I’m here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia’s mouth quirked into a smile. “You’re too good to me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t say that.” Leliana’s eyes sparkled. “Though I can be in camp, later, if you’d like.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia almost groaned. They hadn’t slept together since that first time, both agreeing that it was for stress release and nothing more. But Sia could use some that about now. “You’re teasing me.” Leliana’s smile grew. “You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> teasing me. I never.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bard chuckled, loud enough to make Alistair look behind at them. That made them both laugh, their feminine voices echoing off the rocky hillside around the canyon through which they trekked. Zevran fell back to walk with them and both women looked at him curiously. “The sound of your lovely voices together has me thinking very naughty things,” he confessed, his voice free of any flirtatious tone. “And since we’re in the ass end of Thedas and everything is cold and horrible, I thought I would extend an invitation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia heard Leliana’s breath catch and it did </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her insides. Both of them knew what Zevran was implying. A shot of lust wound itself around her spine and tugged suggestively. “So you want all three of us to cram into one tiny tent.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, not at all. Orzammar has several fine taverns with extra large rooms. I suggest we rent one of those and see where the night takes us.” His eyes roamed the horizon, taking stock. “We’re two days out. Add another to get past the guards at the gates and get settled.” He breathed in, feeling the cold mountain air deep in his lungs. “Three days of anticipation and heady dreams will make it all the sweeter.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana gave Sia a calculating glance. “I wonder if we should tie him up and let him watch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia chuckled in response. The sound was dark and slippery, like silk sliding over a bare thigh. “That sounds like a positively - “ and she looked at Zevran then, “delightful idea. The things you come up with are so </span>
  <em>
    <span>delicious</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They left Zevran stock still on the road, mouth agape. He laughed to himself then hurried to catch up.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>That night, Sia took watch with Morrigan. The two mages - hedge and circle - sat across the fire from each other, listening to the wind scrape along bare branches and tussle the snowdrifts that surrounded their camp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are looking better,” Morrigan said over the crackle of logs. “I admit, there was much fear the night of your incident.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia pulled the fur around her shoulders tighter. “I still don’t remember a lot of it, and Wynne and Zevran only gave me bare details.” She shivered - against the cold or the emptiness of a hollow memory, neither woman could say. Sia looked up at Morrigan. “But I think you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan bowed her head. “Indeed I would. Though I cannot fill in the details of your memory, I can tell you what I saw.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when she was done detailing Sia’s rabid, rolling eyes, her screams, and the fireball that nearly took out Zevran, Morrigan shoved her hands deeper into her cloak and looked steadily at the woman across from her. “You are likely what the Chasind call Fade-touched. It is considered to be both a blessing and a curse. It is understood by their people that those with a deep connection to the Fade can harness powers other mages cannot, but it comes at a cost. Usually nightmares, but there have been tales of these mages falling into trances, sometimes for years.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It can take me after we defeat the Archdemon,” Sia replied after a few moments. “Then it can claim me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A most practical opinion, though I doubt you have much say in your current condition.” When Sia looked questioningly at her, she shrugged. “The Fade is made up of our hopes, our dreams, our desires, and our fears. It is both memory and yet ever-living and expanding.” She wagged a finger at Sia’s robes. “Though the Circle prefers to ignore some elements of the Fade in favor of suppression, which is foolhardy at best. And yet you, for all your Circle training, do not act like a regular Circle mage.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean I’m not Wynne,” Sia said, her tone toothless. She knew it to be true. Wynne was a particular type of Circle mage - trained, rigorous in her attentions and discipline, and all because she was told to be. Sia did not think Wynne a follower, however. Any upstanding Circle mage, doused in Chantry lore and lectured on about the dangers of magic, would have fainted at the mere suggestion that a spirit had merged with their mortal body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then they would have sought advice, succor, and as a last resort, a pyre on which to throw themselves rather than be something other than fully mortal. A waste of talent and opportunity, something she and Morrigan agreed on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She may be a preachy Chantry tool, but I would rather Wynne at my back than most of your Circle brethren,” Morrigan admitted as she rifled around in her pockets. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to know.”  Sia looked at her curiously. “What in the devil are you looking for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This.” Morrigan pulled out a small flask. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do I want to know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s bitterly cold and we’re alone in the night. So yes, you do.” Morrigan unscrewed the heavy cap and offered the flask to Sia. “Wildwine. The last of my stores.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wild what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan shrugged and took a pull. “Made by the Chasind. Medicinal and stronger than that vinegar we get in those piss-poor excuses for taverns in the villages.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pass it over, then.” Sia sniffed it delicately and made a face. “Shit, that smells like grain alcohol.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> grain alcohol. The wine moniker is a bit of a misnomer.” Morrigan smirked. “I doubt many Chasind have had wine. They’ve just heard of it from traders and travelers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They drank in silence, passing the flask back and forth while keeping an eye on the outer edges of the camp. A snore sounded from deep within Alistair’s tent, breaking the snowy stillness. Sia snorted around a mouthful of alcohol then coughed as it burned on the way down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan chuckled. “Not something you want going down the wrong way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ack, definitely not.” She passed the flask back. “So, if I have a ‘deeper connection to the Fade’, is it all hopelessness and doom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think not. There are...ways to protect yourself. They’re not pleasant initially, but they could protect you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia waved off her concern. “I’ve already drank darkspawn blood, walked away from a village that was attacked and destroyed the next week, and threatened Genitivi with his life if he didn’t keep the location of the urn of a dead woman’s ashes a secret.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>And left behind a man whom I’d once been very fond of. I left him to suffer.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She sighed. “I’m not worried about pleasant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her gaze turned calculating. “I would need to do more research. Orzammar may not lend itself to magic but their Shaperate does house many texts on magical theory. I may not find what I need, but it is worth investigation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia seemed to weigh Morrigan’s words, her face pinched in thought. “I’m curious as to how you know that. But that aside, I am appreciative. When we get to Orzammar, let me know what you need.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very well.” Morrigan nodded, as if in approval. “I am glad to find you much more reasonable than many of your type. The Circle tends to make biddable slaves out of what could be incredibly powerful mages.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia grinned, all teeth. “Do I strike you as the ‘biddable’ type?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan laughed at that, the sound a clear echo around them. Inside his tent Alistair seemed to snore in response, making them both laugh. “You strike me as a woman who knows her own mind. And that, my friend, is a very powerful thing indeed.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>As it turned out, Orzammar did have several nice taverns but they would not be able to stay in them, at least not immediately. It seemed their very presence in the dwarven capital meant every trader, warrior, and civilian who didn’t immediately turn their backs on them wanted their assistance. By the time the first evening in Orzammar came around, the two Wardens had been approached by representatives of the ruling parties vying for the crown and the others had gone off to find some kind of housing, even if it was just a common room with a hearth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>True to her word, Morrigan headed away from everyone and toward the Shaperate. Alistair watched her go, confusion on his face. “Do I want to know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia quirked an eyebrow at him. “I get you two don’t agree….well, ever. But she is trying to help me. I think she’s earned a bit of grace for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair chewed on his cheek in thought. “You’re right.” They started to walk along the main thoroughfare, watching the stall owners begin to close up for the night. A few tried to entice them over to secure one last sale for the day but they were waved off. “Are you worried?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia waited until they climbed the stairs before answering. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Morrigan’s trying to help. And so is Wynne.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Sia studied him for a moment. “And what I need is a friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Alistair smile. “The last two Wardens in Ferelden, fighting back to back and traveling arm in arm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled back. “I like the poetry of that. It’s a little bright spot in the darkness.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They kept walking toward The Tipped Tankard in the Orzammar Commons, the lure of a warm meal and a few full mugs of ale like a siren’s song. “So you and Leliana…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are friends.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But the special kind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia stifled a laugh. “We’ve had a moment. Together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you and Zevran -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have not.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not for sake of trying, that’s for sure.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Are you interested in joining us at some point?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair choked and nearly tripped up the stairs to the tavern. “What, I uh….”  He saw the smirk on Sia’s face. “You’re teasing me.” His brow furrowed. “Wait, you’re serious.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugged. “We’re under tremendous pressure. Sex is a practical thing, a need.” His face contorted into worry or fear and Sia reached out to put a reassuring hand on his arm. “I overstepped. I’m sorry. I’m not great at realizing that sex and attraction aren’t easy for everyone to talk about. Forget I said anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sucked in a breath. “No need. I haven’t had the pleasure of what you’re uh, talking about.” Alistair laughed, face going red. “You’re a good person, Sia. I know you didn’t mean it badly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia pushed the door to The Tipped Tankard open and they were bombarded with noise and the smell of ale and roasted meat. “Let me make it up to you over dinner?”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Being in the Deep Roads was like getting intermittently stung by a tiny, annoying, very dangerous bee. This close to the source of the darkspawn and the raw energy that produces them, both Sia and Alistair were deeply uncomfortable. The party chatter had died down as soon as they came to the first Deep Roads crossroads. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The knife edge of anxiety was palpable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time lost all meaning and sense while trudging through the endless tunnels, hacking through darkspawn. Even camping lost its allure in the oppressive dark, and every sound made them reach for their weapons. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After three days of traveling toward the next crossroads, they made camp near a ruined thaig. They went through the motions of posting guards, making something to eat, and trying to find comfortable spots to sleep on the hard ground. As they settled down and Wynne and Leliana turned in, Morrigan approached Sia, her dark eyes conveying urgency. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Walk with me,” Morrigan said as Sia was polishing off a bowl of stew. Zevran, who was sitting beside her, raised his eyebrows but said nothing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll be back,” Sia said softly, putting a hand on Zevran’s shoulder. “Yell if something exciting happens.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran gave an elegant snort and scooped more stew into his bowl. “Do not go far.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia gave him a grim smile and followed Morrigan into the dreary dark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They did not go far at all, just to the edge of the campfire light. Standing between safety and shadow, Morrigan turned to her fellow mage. “I have a proposition for you.” She waited for Sia’s nod before continuing. “The Joining that makes you a Warden ensues that any mortal who undergoes the ritual will have deep ties to the Taint and the darkspawn. But I suspect that when combined with your innate ties to the Fade, a channel was opened.” She peered at Sia in the wan light. “You’ve said you’ve dreamt like that before, releasing destruction magic through the events occurring in your dreams?” Sia nodded and Morrigan’s gaze grew thoughtful. “The Joining allowed for new pathways, for lack of a better word and what you had under control through training now has interesting new avenues to explore. Couple that with the stress of the current situation, you’re ripe for intrusive dreams.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia took a moment to process all of that. “Is it something we can fix? The destructive dreams?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now Morrigan looked at her sadly. “Not without severing your connection to the Fade completely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia didn’t hesitate, but her jaw clenched. “You mean make me Tranquil.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And that is not something I’m going to let happen. Here.” Morrigan handed her a piece of green crystal. The crystal was roughly palm sized, rough hewn like it had just been pickaxed from a moss-covered cavern wall. And, oddly, it was warm to the touch, like wrapping your hands around a mug of warm tea on a freezing cold day. Sia cupped the crystal in her palms and watched it glow gently with a soft green light. “It’s a foci, the kind used by Elvhen mages in the days of Evanuris.” She smiled. “Obviously this is a hunk of rock that some trader thought pretty, and while it is, it’s also no elvhen artifact. But it does bear some magical properties.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia turned the crystal over, admiring the way the firelight hit its jagged edges, making it throw sparks of light against the cavern wall. “So what do I do with this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan smiled, and Sia felt both enraptured by the expression and a tad wary. “I’m going to teach you some old Chasind magic, my little Circle mage.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW violence, some blood/injury discussion</p><p>Also, I promise sex in the next chapter. Lots of smut.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sia stared at the being that once was Caridin, the mighty dwarven smith. Now housed in a massive metal body that preserved his essence long after his bones had turned to dust, he was powerful and intimidating.</p><p>But he was wrong. </p><p>Sia glanced at Alistair and saw his conflicted expression. And he was staring back at her.</p><p>She held up a finger. “Give us a moment.”</p><p>“Time is short, but have your conversation,” rumbled Caridin.</p><p>Branka was on the sidelines, her hands twitching around her battleaxe. “Let’s just destroy him already!”</p><p>Sia ignored the woman’s ravings and pulled Alistair off to the side. Everyone else followed. “We need that Anvil,” she said in a low voice. “We need golems to fight the Blight. They can’t get ill, and they don’t have any fear. They’re the perfect soldiers.”</p><p>Alistair’s mouth dropped open. “They’re made from dwarves!”</p><p>“Which is lamentable, but they’re ascending to a new form,” Morrigan said slowly, eyes narrowed. “Sia’s right, we need soldiers to fight the Blight. This is a solution.”</p><p>“But they’re people.”</p><p>Morrigan sighed. “Are you acting as a Warden right now, Alistair?”</p><p>“What does <em> that </em> mean?”</p><p>Sia held up a hand. “Anyone else have an opinion?”</p><p>Sten nodded. “Golems will fight for you and you can always destroy them afterwards, or use them as guards. It is a good solution.”</p><p>“No it’s not!” Leliana said. “It’s murder.”</p><p>“It’s slavery,” Zevran replied softly, looking at Sia.</p><p>The murmur of voices rose and buzzed inside Sia’s ears. She closed her eyes before turning to glance back at Caridin and Branka. “We need the Legion of the Dead,” she said in a clear voice. “They’re already destined to die in the Deep Roads. Using them as golems gives them a better chance of smashing more darkspawn into pieces. We may not be able to convince them but it’s worth a try.”</p><p>“There may be another solution,” Zevran said from near Sia’s right shoulder. “But while the process of creating the golems may be brutal, that could be changed, perhaps? If this Branka is such a skilled smith, surely she could find a way. Then, more golems could be made without requiring people to fill their bodies, and Orzammar would get an army of golems to help repel darkspawn attacks. So Branka makes a crown for the king of your choice, you would get both golems and dwarves for the battle against the Archdemon, and likely as steadfast allies for the future. So for now, you take volunteers or get the Legion of the Dead to sign up. Then investigate other ways to make golems.”  He looked down and picked at a ragged fingernail. “It is just a suggestion.”</p><p>“I do not like the idea of sacrificing people to make golems, but if they were willing….” Leliana trailed off. She looked to Wynne, who nodded. “It would be acting in duty to defend their home. That I can agree with.”</p><p>Sia gave Zevran an approving look. “Not just a pretty face, eh?” He squeezed her arm in response.  “Alistair, does this sit well with you?”</p><p>Her fellow Warden huffed but said, “If it’s our best option.” He jerked his chin at Caridin. “But I don’t think we’re going to get him to agree.”</p><p>“Well, I’ve been wanting to hit something for the last day or so.” Sia squared her shoulders. “Let’s do this.”</p><hr/><p>Caridin was no darkspawn and did not fall easily. While they bent and dented his metal body, he charged at them with the fire and fury of thousands of years. Sia did not feel sorrow at his destruction, she did worry what consequences they had wrought.</p><p>There had been no good choices, simply less awful ones.</p><p>Mana near depletion, robes bloody and torn, Sia turned to throw up a shield when she saw Alistair fall under the fist of a golem. “No!” she screamed, running toward him. She tossed her staff aside and dashed forward, deaf to the pleas of Zevran and Wynne as she hurtled into the fray.</p><p>
  <em> You cannot take my friend. I cannot be the only Warden left. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You will not. </em>
</p><p>On instinct, she reached for the power Morrigan had helped her manifest over the last few days. It was still shaky and chaotic, born of innate magical energy but not honed through any real training or practice. With her next step and a focus made from desperation and heart-in-throat fear, Sia’s world <em> changed </em>.</p><p>It was still the massive cavern housing the Anvil of the Void...and it wasn’t. Swatches of Fade green swirled around her feet and curled upward, spiraling into her open palms. She barely registered the cavern walls glowing with iridescent lichen (lichen that definitely were not part of the cavern they’d stood in moments ago), and she ignored the Fade spirits that curiously watched her from the sidelines. </p><p>Time <em> stopped </em> as she pushed that energy out, forming massive fists that rivaled the golem’s. Sia bit her lip and felt it split open, could feel her pulse thrumming in her neck, could feel the strain of her heart as she put every single bit of energy left in her body into the effort.</p><p>Something popped in her ribcage, a dull pain that began to radiate up, as the massive fists pushed the golem off the cliff, then swooped back to pick up Alistair’s limp form and carry him to her. He was unconscious, bleeding freely from a nasty head wound. His breath was shallow, pained, and she could hear the blood behind the oxygen.</p><p>“You will NOT <b>take him</b> !” she screamed, pushing her hands onto his chest, then into it. Past his armor and skin, past muscle and bone and organ. The last ounce of her power gave out just as she mended the punctured lung that she somehow <em> knew </em> was there, sealing the internal bleeding. </p><p>His eyes flickered open and Sia collapsed on the ground.</p><hr/><p>“What did you teach her?”</p><p>“I did nothing other than give her a bit of veridium that had been Fade touched and instructions on how to use it as a foci for meditation.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Hardly. Meditation to calm wild magics has been part of the Chasind culture for many centuries. If she is a Fadewalker, as I suspect, the meditation allows her to gain some control over the more chaotic parts of her talents. We had barely begun when this happened.” </p><p>There was a long pause that Sia thought was just more ringing in her ears, and then she heard Alistair say, “This is going to happen again?”</p><p>“Magical energy, fueled by trauma, is completely unpredictable.” Sia furrowed her brow at Wynne’s sudden inclusion in the conversation happening outside her tent. “It is why the Circle teaches control at every turn and reinforces it with Templars.”</p><p>“You mean jailers.”</p><p>Wynne sighed. “What Sia is dealing with is beyond any scholarly or theoretical text. The Circle had no real answers for me, save to let me know they’d happily take her back into their service once the Blight was resolved.”</p><p>Morrigan snorted. “How convenient they forget she is a Warden when faced with a powerful mage. You should not have written them.”</p><p>“They could have had answers.”</p><p>“And now they know that a mage they cannot control nor understand is ‘loose upon the world’. Oh, so scary.”</p><p>Sia could picture Alistair holding up his hands as he quickly said, “Maybe let’s leave this for now. I wanted to check on Sia before taking watch.”</p><p>“You’re all loud enough to wake the dead,” she called out in a croaky voice. “But please do keep arguing over my fate without consulting me. I rather enjoy being talked about.”</p><p>The silence outside her tent as they absorbed her words was deafening and then Wynne laughed. “I see you’ve not lost your spirit,” she said as she ducked inside. Her brow furrowed as her gaze swept calculatingly over Sia’s form. “The bruises are already beginning to fade, which is good.”</p><p>Sia let her head drop back against the pillow. “How long was I out for? And can I just say I’m getting tired of being knocked out by magic.”</p><p>“Then we’ve much work to do,” Morrigan replied as she entered the tent, followed by a very worried looking Alistair. The left side of his face was a mass of healing bruises and scrapes, but he looked much better than when Sia had last seen him.</p><p>“Can you let her rest? We’re not even out of the Deep Roads yet,” Alistair protested, shooting Sia a tired, apologetic smile.</p><p>“To answer your question,” Wynne said as she handed Sia a waterskin, “one day. I expected it to be longer. We’ve set up camp just outside the Anvil’s cavern.” Her jaw clenched. “Branka’s already hard at work and Alistair’s sent off a message to the Legion of the Dead.”</p><p>The water was cold, almost shockingly so, and Sia gasped after swallowing a mouthful. “That’s good. Nicely done, Alistair.” She cracked a smile and felt the tug on her lips, like salt in a wound. “Ouch.”</p><p>“We got the crown, too. First thing Branka made,” Alistair said. “I’ve got it in my tent for safekeeping. Hopefully it’s enough to sway Harrowmont.”</p><p>Sia shook her head. “I still think Bhelen would be a better choice. Harrowmont’s seasoned as a politician but he doesn’t have the tactical knowledge we need on the battlefield.”</p><p>Alistair turned to the two women. “Give us a moment?”  Wynne nodded and left, but Morrigan pulled something out of her pocket and handed it to Sia before leaving as well. Sia’s fingers closed around the crystal and she nodded her thanks.</p><p>Alistair sat down beside her, his face very serious. “I know that Wardens don’t traditionally get involved in the day to day politics of the different kingdoms, but I was thinking we could begin to change that. If we pick Harrowmont, then we won’t be putting a man who killed his own father and brother on the throne.”</p><p>“Is that our job, though? You’re right, Grey Wardens don’t get involved in affairs of kingdoms. And for good reason. We could be accused of having undue influence.” She frowned at him. “Which you realize will happen no matter what. We’re helping to choose a king for Orzammar. We’re changing the fates of the dwarven people with these golems and that damned Anvil. Everything we do ripples out.” She sighed, picking at the bandage on her arm. “We need to do what is required to end the Blight. Orzammar needs a ruler, and we’ve been asked to have a crown made. In order to make that happen, and gain forces for the fight, we had to let a crazy smith make more golems. Everything after that becomes the problems of its own people. We can’t focus on that.”</p><p>“But shouldn’t we?” Alistair protested even as he reached out to help Sia pull off the offending bandage. The wound beneath had been sealed by Wynne but it still stung when the air hit it. Sia hissed in pain but didn’t wrench her arm away as Alistair began cleaning off the dried blood with a damp rag. “Grey Wardens should have more involvement in the lands they protect.”</p><p>“Alistair, think about what that would do. Politically it would be a nightmare. The Wardens have a practically mythic backstory, lots of heroics, and most people leave it at that. When a Blight happens, they get to swoop in, save the day, and then retreat. If we don’t leave for Orlais or Weisshaupt or wherever the fuck and get out of the public eye, the loving public won’t always stay loving. Ultimately, someone in some kingdom will request our aid for some petty squabble, and then another….and then we’re in the thick of bullshit politics, and we’re no longer Grey Wardens. We’re some kind of authoritative force, an inquisition. And that’s when things get really bad.”</p><p>Alistair smiled but there was no humor in it. “I didn’t know you were a military historian.”</p><p>She grinned but meant it, not caring that it split her cracked lips even more. “What do you think I did with all that time in the Circle?” <em> Other than seduce young Templars and try to find ways into the storeroom in the basement where my phylactery was. </em></p><p>He shrugged and wrung out the rag. The water turned milky pink with her blood and they both watched it swirl lazily in the chipped bowl. “I just feel like we should <em> try </em>,” Alistair said softly. “Isn’t that worth it?”</p><p>Sia reached out with her good arm and put a hand on his knee. “I am absolutely not joking here at all. The best thing we can do to make change happen is put a Grey Warden on the throne.”</p><p>Alistair’s face contorted through a war of emotions - pain, deference, trust, finally settling on something that looked like regret. “Here I am arguing with you after you got hurt saving <em> my life </em>. Some friend I am.”</p><p>Sia stopped him with that hand on his knee, squeezing gently. “How about you help me with these other bandages and we call it even?”</p><p>He shook his head, laughing. “How is it you’re right? Again? I just worry.” Alistair pushed his hair back, damp fingers slicking the dark blonde strands and making them stand at attention every which way. “I don’t know if I’m more frustrated now or two minutes ago when you were trying to politely tell me I didn’t know a damn thing.”</p><p>“Alistair that is not - “</p><p>“I know, I know. But you’re right.”</p><p>“Only some of the time. The other time I’m a know-it-all Circle mage who has spent more time indoors than out.”</p><p>“And yet for that, you don’t complain. And you save our sorry hides all the time.”</p><p>She cocked her head, eyes sparking to life. “Hides? You mean asses. Each and every one of you.”</p><p>He wiggled his eyebrows at her. “We’re <em> your </em> asses, though.”</p><p>At that, Sia braced herself on her elbows and craned her head, like she was trying to look behind Alistair. Or, rather, at Alistair’s behind. “Can’t say I’ve had the <em> pleasure </em>,” she retorted, using the same tone he had when they’d discussed sex while walking through the Orzammar Commons. </p><p>“Well, maybe if you ask nicely, the next time we’re at a river and I need a bath, I’ll just whistle on my walk down to the water so you know to tag along.”</p><p>She couldn’t stop from smiling. “How do you know I wouldn’t just steal your clothes and force you to walk back to camp completely naked?”</p><p>“I, uh….hmmm,” he said, eyes narrowing. “I hadn’t thought of that.”</p><p>She chucked him under the chin with a finger. “Start thinking dirty like me and you will.”</p><p>They laughed until their breath ran out and their sides hurt. Which is exactly when Sia rolled over to her injured side and asked, “Could you help with this? Wynne’s got the oilcloth of bandages on this thing and I can feel my skin peeling off.”</p><p>“I think it’s meant to keep your skin from doing just that.”</p><p>She sighed. “Yes, and it itches and I’m moody. Please?”</p><p>Alistair bent to lift the edge of her robe (and the only clean one she’d had left in her pack), and kept lifting to expose the edges of the bandages. “Oh.”</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>He looked sheepish. “To get the bandage off, you’d have to take off your robe.”</p><p>“Okay, help me up.”</p><p>He hitched a thumb at the tent flaps. “I should get Wynne, or Leliana.”</p><p>Sia was trying very hard not to smile. She didn’t want to reinforce his embarrassment, but it <em> was </em> endearing, how worried he was about her modesty. “I mean, if that would make you more comfortable, absolutely.”</p><p>He looked flummoxed. “You wouldn’t be uncomfortable?”</p><p>She shrugged. “They’re just breasts, Alistair, and since I’m a combination of a walking bruise and seeping wounds, that’s not exactly sexy.” She put her hands over her clothed breasts. “I’ll do this if it helps.”</p><p>“I’d still rather get one of the women.”</p><p>She nodded. “Then by all means.”</p><p>Alistair practically scrambled away, then came back a second later to plant a kiss on her forehead. “I’m very thankful for you saving my life. I wouldn’t want to be one of the last Wardens in this Blighted land with anyone else.” He glanced down at her chest. “Especially when the other one keeps offering to flash me.”</p><p>Her laughter followed him out of the tent.</p><hr/><p>Later that night, Sia couldn’t sleep. She felt dried, flaky blood clinging to her skin, and the pull of wounds closing was like the maddest itch you couldn’t scratch. Slowly, painstakingly, she got to her feet and stumbled out of the tent. Like all the other nights in camp, a fire was raging, but it was backlit by the eerie yellow-red light from the Anvil of the Void in the far distance. The sound of metal on metal, and the more unnervingly metal on stone, echoed around them.</p><p>The lone figure at the fire turned at the sound of her bare feet on the flat stone floor, and rushed over to her. Zevran looped one arm around her waist, carefully avoiding her bruises, and the other out to steady her if she toppled. “Sia, mi amor. You shouldn’t be up.”</p><p>She coughed, tasting elfroot and blood. “I should be dead. Hasn’t happened yet.”</p><p>He tutted at her. “And you shouldn’t say such things. Do you wish me to sprawl over your pyre, weeping and cawing like a widower, flailing about in agony and grief?”</p><p>“I think that’d just get you set on fire, too,” she said dryly, making him laugh.</p><p>“Wynne was correct, your humor was not knocked from you in the battle. That is good.” He motioned to the fire. “Are you hungry? We saved some food for you.”</p><p>“Yes, starving.”</p><p>After he got her settled comfortably with a bowl of stew and a cup of watered down wine, Zevran sat beside her, dark eyes watching her every move. He was glad to see her hands steady, her eyes a little hazy but not too distant. He could feel the well of emotions surging in him once more, and even seeing her whole and mostly healthy didn’t completely quell them.</p><p>When he watched her go down, her body crumpling to the ground in a heap and so near the fight, he’d rushed over, heedless of the danger. And he’d completely ignored Alistair, who was just struggling to his feet. </p><p>
  <em> It was only later, after the fight, that anyone noticed Alistair’s wounds were completely healed. </em>
</p><p>There was so much blood splashed over the ground, in her hair and over her face, seeping through her robes and running down her sides. Zevran felt its fading warmth through his own leathers and dashed off, away from the battle and toward an area of relative safety. As he did so, Alistair had landed the final blow on Caridin and ended the fight before he’d had the chance to return.</p><p>“Can I ask you a question, Zevran?”</p><p>“Hmmm? Oh yes, of course.” He shook his head and brought his attentions back to her.</p><p>She set the empty bowl and cup down on the ground. “Why do you call me that?” At his quirked eyebrow, she elaborated. “Mi amor.”</p><p>And here he had to tread carefully. “Do you know what it means?”</p><p>“I have an inkling.”</p><p>“Ah, well Antivans are much more florid in their language than you harsh Southerners. We have pet names for many types of people in our lives. We have phrases for friends, good friends, and lifetime friends, as well as acquaintances, lovers, partners, and…” He winked at her. “Those with whom we are friends but have a physical relationship. I believe the southern term is fuckbuddy.”</p><p>If Sia had been drinking something, she would have spat it out in laughter. “So mi amor is one of those?”</p><p>He shook his head. “That one is more….complicated. It has a variety of meanings based on the relationship but is also a selfish term, since it is defined first by the person speaking the words.” He looked down at his hands, then back up at her. “It means my love. And it can mean that kind of heart-palpitating, loss of all common sense, knocked upside the head kind of emotion but in more general terms, it is used for someone who means a great deal to you but the relationship is still undefined.”</p><p>Sia was quiet for a long moment, her gaze scraping him raw with its intensity. “Zevran.”</p><p>“Ah, listen to me go on.” He stood and came over to claim her bowl. “More stew?”</p><p>She caught his hand, ignoring the screaming of her injured muscles. “Please sit.”</p><p>He sat, fighting the urge to swallow hard against the sudden heavy thumping of his heart. <em> The traitor. </em> “I admit, at first it was simply a reflex to a beautiful, powerful woman in my presence who sought to use my skills and not kill me. Rather magnanimous of her.” He rubbed her hand between his thumb and forefinger, seeking to soothe the fire-warmed skin. It was subtle, but she leaned into the touch. “And then you didn’t shy away when I was flirting so outrageously with you. I’m used to people either jumping me immediately or suspecting me of other motives.”</p><p>Sia bit her cheek to keep from grinning. “But you sometimes have other motives. You’ve told me as much.”</p><p>He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, teasing the soft skin there. He could see her fight not to squirm against his gentle touch, and it pleased him to see her react so. “And yet for every story and interaction I’ve ever had, you’ve somehow found a way to work around them. You surprise me, Sia, more than anyone else.” Zevran ducked his head and his braids, loose from brushing and sleep, swung in front of his face. “So mi amor is for what we have, and what I dare not hope we find at some point. For all the pleasures of bare skin and fevered kisses, I want to show you something else.”  He winked. “And I’m not simply referring to my massage skills.”</p><p>“But that night, in Redcliffe, you stopped me.”</p><p>“It was not the right time. I let….I let my body and my wants take control. When I saw you were not in the right frame of mind, I worried for your safety. And mine.”  His voice grew warm and soft, wrapping around her, rubbing like velvet on her battered body. “I enjoy many manners of pleasure and in the past, I have not been as careful with myself as I should have been. I allowed people to hurt me because it gave them pleasure. Done in the proper way, it can be more pleasurable for the person being hurt. But a long time ago, I vowed to never let someone touch me if their mind was not fully aware, fully right. I do not think you would have hurt me, not intentionally. But we were both tired, confused, and stressed. And I felt it only right that you knew about my proclivities, and my caution, before we embarked on something physical.”</p><p>Just as Zevran began to worry about her silence, she turned to him and said, “Have I ever told you about the man at the Circle? The Templar?”</p><p>“You have not.”</p><p>“I’m telling you this,” she said, voice barely a whisper, “because I think it’s only fair you know. I want you, Zevran. I have for a while. And you’re right, I wasn’t in a good state of mind that night in Redcliffe. But this man meant a lot to me, at one time. But when I left the Circle, I left him. I swore up and down I’d never tie myself to someone else like that. I’d fuck, and I’d kiss, and I’d touch beautiful people with my newfound freedom, but I’d never become invested like that.”</p><p>“Sia,” he said, reaching up to touch her cheek. “You are so young. I keep forgetting that. You never <em> act </em> like it, which astounds me.”</p><p>“That’s what happens when you never get the chance to be a child. The Circle views even the youngest mages as adults. It’s how they get away with their whole ‘no coddling’ rule.”</p><p>Zevran shook his head. “The Crows are not any better. They buy children to train them in murder and poisons. It is...not as bad as it sounds, as long as you find a way to stay a child forever. It’s once you grow up that things become brutal.”</p><p>“I am so sorry, Zevran.”</p><p>“So am I.” He peered around the campsite. “For all of us. For all us poor, lost souls.”</p><p>With a tentative hand, Sia reached up to touch one of his braids. “Is this okay?” When he nodded, she traced a finger down the braid, and Zevran felt like she’d run a finger down his spine. “Can I take it out?”</p><p>He nodded silently, leaning forward to give her better access. Deft fingers undid the braid and she separated the thick plait, shaking it loose as she went. “Can I keep going?”</p><p>Zevran fought to keep his eyes open. “I see you’re already learning one of my weaknesses. People play with my hair and I turn to putty in their laps.”</p><p>“Then come over here and be putty, you beautiful man.”</p><p>When the camp awoke at what would have been first light (had they been on the surface), they found Zevran and Sia curled together by the remains of the fire.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It really is mostly porn. And it's only the first part.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The party wasn’t one hundred yards past the entrance to Orzammar’s Diamond Quarter from the long trek up from the Deep Roads before they were harangued by representatives for Harrowmont and Bhelen. </p><p>Both dwarves moved toward them but Sten stepped in front of Sia and Alistair, set the pommel of his weapon into the ground, and rested his hands on top of the battleaxe. “No.”</p><p>It was almost laughable watching two heavily armed dwarves skid to a stop well out of reach of the seven and a half foot tall Qunari warrior. The men exchanged a look and one could see the math they were doing - safety, or their job? Sia heard Leliana snicker behind her and she swatted blindly at her, making the bard snort.</p><p>“No?” Harrowmont’s flunky asked weakly.</p><p>Sten shook his head. “No. We will leave here and rest. You will wait until tomorrow at this time to approach us. And then if the Wardens will it, you may speak.” He ran his right hand, palm down, over the blade of the axe. “And if they do not permit it, you will know.”</p><p>“Remind me once again to never, ever piss him off,” Alistair said in Sia’s ear. She nodded her agreement.</p><p>The dwarven representatives exchanged one more look and then walked off in opposite directions, shoulders slumped. Sten turned to the group. “I apologize. I let my temper get the better of me.” He glanced down at Alistair and Sia. “You fight the Blight. Their petty affairs are nothing compared to an Archdemon.” Sten picked the blade up and put it in the holster across his back. “I would like to see this Tipped Tankard.”</p><p>Sia, whose head barely came up to his bicep, came to stand beside him. “Thank you, Sten. You just saved us a nightmare of an evening.”</p><p>“It was no matter.” He glanced down at her. “They can wait for their crown. But I expect the shunned party to instigate violence.”</p><p>“Undoubtedly.” She gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. “You heard Sten, let’s go get dinner.”</p><p>Easier than said done, however. Crowds instantly began to gather, people pushing to see the famous Grey Wardens having returned triumphant from the Deep Roads, where few dwarves even dared to tread. Oghren, the warrior who had pointed them toward Branka and the Deep Roads, started shoving the crowds back. “Get out of here you rubberneckers! Can’t you see the Wardens are busy?”</p><p>They hustled out of the Diamond Quarter and into the Commons, then up to the second level where The Tipped Tankard sat waiting, inviting smells assaulting their noses and palates that had sadly gotten used to mediocre camp food for weeks.</p><p>Oghren joined them, peppering Sia and Alistair with questions about Branka. After hearing she was alive but down in the depths with the Anvil of the Void, he chuffed and said, “Well, good. Damn woman, always chasing after something better than me.” Then he turned and said, “So, I’m going with you.”</p><p>Sia glanced at him, surprised. “You are?”</p><p>“Yeah, I uh...never been to the surface but if we’re fighting darkspawn, then that’s where I need to be.”</p><p>Alistair slapped Oghren on the back, winced, and pulled his hand back. “Welcome aboard.”</p><p>“Oh great, a mouthy dwarf,” Morrigan muttered just out of earshot.</p><p>Sia knocked her shoulder into Morrigan’s. The other woman smiled despite herself. “But we’ve got golems on order and they’re fueled by the Legion of the Dead. So I think one dwarven party member is a small acquiescence.”</p><p>“Fine, be reasonable,” Morrigan grumbled. </p><hr/><p>“Andraste’s <em> tits </em> that’s hot!”</p><p>Merry, the dwarven woman assigned to their rooms just laughed. “That’s what most people want, ma’am.”</p><p>Sia flinched against the scalding heat of the water in her tub as she gently lowered herself down. The bathwater had been scented with jasmine oils and some kind of fizzy scrubbing salt and it smelled heavenly. </p><p>It was still hot as fuck, though.</p><p>“Begging your pardon, ma’am, but are you okay?” Merry motioned to Sia’s fading bruises.</p><p>Finally sunk into the tub up to her clavicle, Sia leaned back to catch the ends of her hair in the water. “The Deep Roads suck, Merry.”</p><p>“I’ve no doubt.” She picked up the empty bucket. “You needin’ anything else?”</p><p>“Not a bit. I have a scalding bath and a bottle of wine.”</p><p>“Very good, ma’am.”</p><p>“Sia.” Sia reached over to the stool near the tub and blindly dug around in the pocket of her now ruined robes. She pulled out a small bag of gold and tossed it to Merry. “Whatever me and mine want, make sure they get it.”</p><p>Merry caught the bag deftly, jingled it as if weighing its contents, and tucked it away. “Consider me and the others in the kitchens yours….Sia the Grey Warden.”</p><p>Sia put a finger to her lips. “And we won’t tell that absolute <em> joy </em> of a tavern owner, right?”</p><p>Merry winked. “Damn right. Fuck ‘im, if I’m to be frank. He’s a right beast and gruff as all hell.”</p><p>“Fuck him indeed.”</p><p>Merry left, pockets heavier with Sia’s gold, and Sia leaned all the way back in the tub. Every bit of tension, every bruise and wound, started to slowly unspool as the hot water did its job. The feeling of her body loosening, her breathing slowing….as if the act of getting clean from weeks of muck and terror was restorative, and it did something to Sia in the moment.</p><p>She felt like she could breathe again, away from the oppressive dark and the demons and the awful fate that felt inevitable. It was the first time down there in the dark that she’d felt true fear since her Harrowing. The kind of mind-numbing, heart-stopping fear that could fell even the bravest of warriors. The choking kind of fear.</p><p>And down there amidst the caves and scuttling spiders and screeching darkspawn, her fear came in a moment of complete stillness. They’d stopped to rest after walking nearly twenty miles and she leaned against a wall, dropping her pack to relieve her back and shoulders of its burden. </p><p>In that stillness, a sudden, invisible weight pulled her to the ground. Her thoughts swirled - the Archdemon, the Blight, the fates of her companions, and all of it born with the understanding that it could all fall apart if she and Alistair failed. But their failure would be a failure for Ferelden as well. </p><p>Ferelden could die.</p><p>Sia groaned, rubbing her face with wet hands and pushing the dirt on her cheeks into a sticky paste. She scrubbed and soaped and did it again and again until her skin was pink from the rough sponge and the water had cooled to lukewarm. Only then did she leave the safety of the tub, wrap herself in a robe, and knock on the door to the adjoining room.</p><hr/><p>Having scraped himself clean, gorged on fruit and cheese and stew and bread, and currently taking delight in a positively delicious bottle of wine, Zevran relaxed on the massive bed in his room and took a deep breath.</p><p>And another.</p><p>And yet another.</p><p>Still there was a tension in his body, screaming for release. Had this been any other time, any other place, he would have sauntered to the common room downstairs, found a pretty lad or lass, bedded them, and retreated back to his room for rest.</p><p>But the lure of what - and who - was just down the hall was too much to pass up. He knew everyone was raw from the long dark they’d fought through for weeks, but he also knew that he and Sia had come to an accord. She’d told him the story of the young Templar she’d fallen for and abandoned not long after. It was a story of first love and frenzied lust and hurried couplings for fear of being caught.</p><p>She’d never truly experienced pleasure in its varying forms and degrees, its knots and tangles and unravelings. </p><p>Sia had poured her heart out to him and held him while she stroked his hair with such gentleness. It wormed into his heart and made him adore her that much more. And now she was down the hall, bathing and feasting and drinking, soothing her tired body and exhausted mind with jasmine oils and a fortifying meal. And maybe he could keep soothing her by undoing the tightness in her body no hot water or oils could reach.</p><p>By all the gods, he wanted her.</p><p>Decision made, he slipped down the hallway, padding silently on bare feet across the polished wood planks. As he approached Sia’s door, he heard her voice, and Leliana’s, in the room directly to the right. </p><p>Their words from the approach to Orzammar rang in his ears. </p><p>
  <em>“I wonder if we should tie him up and let him watch.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“That sounds like a positively delightful idea. The things you come up with are so delicious.” </em>
</p><p>Zevran shivered in anticipation and knocked on Leliana’s door.</p><p>The door opened quickly and Zevran was greeted by a robe clad Leliana, her red hair still damp, her cheeks flushed. The fire in the room blazed, putting out a delightful heat against the chill of dwarven stone. And just beyond the door, on the edge of Zevran’s sight, he saw a cascade of red hair against deep blue sheets.</p><p>“Am I interrupting?”</p><p>Leliana shrugged, grinning. “Did you bring any gifts for the offering? You must make an offering if you want to gain passage.”</p><p>Zevran picked up the bottle of wine he’d sat on the floor for just this occasion. “It is delightful, I can promise you that.”</p><p>“Zevran,” Sia sang out, flinging a hand over the edge of the bed to wave at him. “Get your adorable Antivan ass in here. We’re having a party.”</p><p>“Is she drunk?” Zevran whispered to Leliana as he entered and she shut the door behind him. </p><p>Leliana shook her head. “Unburdened, temporarily. She’s only had a glass. I think she’s happy for once.” Her peach silk robe slipped down over her shoulder and Zevran ached to push it back up. Just to touch, to feel.</p><p>She noticed him looking and took his hand, leading him over to the bed. He gamely let himself be moved along by a woman a head shorter than he. </p><p>As they approached the massive bed, Sia waved again but didn’t get up from her sprawl across the ocean blue sheets. “Look at you two, so pretty together.” She rolled over to lay on her stomach, all the better to watch them. As she did so, her robe hitched up, baring her thighs in a manner on the edge of indecent.</p><p>Zevran desperately wanted to run his hands along her legs, pushing that silk out of the way so he could find the center of her. Or maybe he wanted to watch Leliana kiss and suck her way up and down Sia’s body, making the other woman writhe and fist the sheets. </p><p>
  <em> Oh yes. That would be more than perfect. </em>
</p><p>Leliana took the bottle of wine from him while he stared adoringly at Sia. “Look at you, <em> mi amor </em>,” he said, voice a low purr. “So relaxed.” Zevran gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, close enough for her to touch but he didn’t touch her yet. “I am glad to see you taking time for yourself.”</p><p>Sia slid her hands along the soft sheets, clawing at them gently. Zevran felt his stomach clench at that, tearing his gaze from her when Leliana approached with two glasses of wine.</p><p>The bard picked up her own glass and raised it. “To fighting the Blight in good company.”</p><p>“To such good company,” Zevran replied as he grinned. </p><p>Sia got to her knees, wine threatening the edge of her glass as she moved, and said, “To my beautiful friends who keep me sane.” She took a big swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Her lips glistened with cabernet. “My beautiful, beautiful friends.”</p><p>Leliana sat down opposite Zevran, sandwiching Sia between them. “I love this color on you,” she said as she plucked at the collar of Sia’s cream colored robe. “It makes your hair look like fire.”</p><p>“Not a practical color for the road,” Sia admitted.</p><p>“Too much blood and dirt. It would be a pity to dirty such a delicious color,” Zevran admitted as he ran a finger down the right sleeve. Delicate as air, the barest of pressures on the fabric.</p><p>Sia didn’t know which way to lean - the fingers brushing her shoulder, or the ones teasing at her sleeve. <em> And why should I choose? </em></p><p>With a sly look to Zevran, Sia leaned toward Leliana, not touching but close enough to breathe in her scent. “Honey, clover, clean skin,” she murmured, daring to move closer. She felt Zevran’s hand land lightly on her arm. A reassurance of his presence, not an interference. </p><p>Leliana cupped Sia’s jaw, fingers brushing her earlobe. Sia closed her eyes and leaned in, chasing that gentle caress. “You are so pretty,” Leliana said. “I look at you and I see poetry.” Sia whimpered and tried to nip at Leliana’s lips, but Leliana ducked her head to place a hot, open-mouthed kiss in the hollow of Sia’s throat.</p><p>Zevran saw Sia <em> melt </em>. Her body went limp and he snatched her empty glass away before it rolled to the floor. He gripped his own glass tightly in his right hand as he watched Leliana guide Sia down to the bed, adjusting the pillows to protect Sia’s neck. “Do you want me to kiss you here?” Leliana whispered, touching the side of Sia’s neck. </p><p>“Andraste’s ass,” Sia blasphemed through gritted teeth. “Need your mouth on me. <em> Now </em>.”</p><p>Zevran saw Leliana shiver at the authority in Sia’s tone and he watched the Chantry sister -<em> no, bard </em>, he corrected - slip a hand between the silk folds of Sia’s robe. Sia arched into the touch, bringing a hand up to cup Leliana’s cheek and pull her into a kiss that was a slow, sensual slide of lips. He caught a glimpse of Leliana’s tongue slipping into Sia’s mouth.</p><p>Sia let Leliana lick into her mouth, gripping the other woman’s robe with both hands as she moaned in approval. She wanted to rip that robe off and feel soft skin beneath her palms once more. But she remembered the other party in the room. Could feel the heat of his gaze.</p><p>Zevran watched the two women kiss and fondle each other, all skilled mouths and wandering hands and Leliana’s knee slowly raising higher and higher between Sia’s thighs. And then he saw Sia look over at him without losing her place in the kiss.</p><p><em> She wants to know how this makes you feel </em> , he thought. The thrill of knowing she was watching, interested in him, even as a beautiful woman kissed her ( <em> her mouth sliding from Sia’s and down her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin, licking and sucking and biting </em>), made him even more excited. Zevran locked his lust-darkened eyes onto her and painfully slowly let his thighs drop open. The obvious evidence of his arousal stood proudly, pointed at the women on the bed. Begging to be touched, to be teased and tasted and enveloped in their warmth.</p><p>
  <em> Whom would he be allowed to fuck? He wanted Sia with every inch of his being but Leliana was delectable, a witty, talented, beautiful woman as well.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Or maybe they would make him sit and watch, unable to touch them or himself. And when they’d wrung pleasure from each other, they’d come to him. It would be sweet, sweet torture to have their lovely hands and hot mouths on his overstimulated body, watching him with eyes glazed over with pleasure. </em>
</p><p>“I think he’s feeling left out,” Leliana was saying to Sia. Zevran shook his head, vision clearing, and he realized they were staring at him.</p><p>“I may have gotten a little lost in a daydream,” he admitted. “But that is only because I am very jealous of you both.”</p><p>“Is it too early to reward him?” Sia asked in between gasping breaths as Leliana slowly undid the belt on her robe.</p><p>“Perhaps,” Leliana replied, casting a sly glance at Zevran. The robe fell open, baring her to them both. Somehow Zevran wasn’t shocked that she was entirely naked beneath, but he couldn’t help but stare. Months of hard travel and fighting had hardened her body, but he saw the natural curves. The heaviness of her breasts, the flare of her hips. She was stunning, rosy from drink and candlelight and lust.</p><p>Saliva pooled in his mouth at the thought of getting to lick every inch of her.</p><p>Leliana slid greedy hands up Sia’s ribs, curving her palms around the bottom of her breasts. Sia arched into the touch and reached up to grab Leliana’s face. They kissed messily, no quarter given between the two who clearly desired each other so much. He gripped the arms of the chair as he watched Leliana draw one puckered nipple into her mouth. The moan Sia let out could have shook the walls, but it rattled him instead.</p><p>“Normally I am one for the slow tease but you are going to <em> kill me </em>,” he said in a harsh whisper, his body straining with need.</p><p>Sia held out a hand to him, head turned to watch him as Leliana nibbled at her breasts. “Come here.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zevran stood slowly, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up, showing hints of smooth skin and a deep line of muscle disappearing into pants barely clinging to his hips.</p><p>Sia wanted to lick along that line.</p><p>“Zevran,” she whispered, wiggling her outstretched fingers. “Come.”</p><p>Leliana pulled away from Sia’s left breast, her lips shining and red. “Oh,” she said softly as she watched Zevran run a hand down his thigh.</p><p>With a wicked grin, Zevran pulled off his shirt, flinging it blindly into a corner. Bared to the candlelight and their hungry gazes, he couldn’t help but flex and preen a little. Sia nearly growled in response while Leliana wolf-whistled, teasing and melodic. He reveled in their attention, the warmth of their appreciation sending shocks through his nervous system.</p><p>Zevran had been admired and touched and fondled by the desperate, the wanting, the needy. In some ways, those touches had all felt the same - delightful in the moment, but ultimately hollow after their bodies had cooled and the sheets stuck to their skin.</p><p>He craved something more than temporary pleasure and grasping hands. He wanted to feel their fingers dig into his thighs and leave their marks; teeth biting into his collarbone, claiming. And with every fiber of his being he wanted to give as good as he got and claim <em> her </em>.</p><p>Sia and Leliana watched Zevran slink toward them, his hips moving in a hypnotic rolling wave. Muscle and scars and tattoos (and oh did he have tattoos in the most <em> interesting </em> place that just begged to be discovered) were uncovered for their sight. He took Sia’s hand, then Leliana’s, and let them pull him down. </p><p>“Mi amor,” he said, body thrumming with a deep, dark pulse of energy as he took Leliana’s place, hovering over Sia. Admiring her.</p><p>“Isn’t she beautiful?” Leliana whispered, lips brushing Zevran’s ear. “I could just touch her forever.”</p><p>Sia thrashed against the pillows, pinned by Zevran’s weight. But instead of fighting against him, she was trying to <em> curl around him </em>, desperate for his touch. He felt her pining like an ache set in bone marrow. </p><p>Sia slipped two fingers into the waistband of Zevran’s pants. “Off.” At Zevran’s raised eyebrow and wicked grin, Sia glanced over at Leliana. Both women laughed. “I’ve got a bet with Leliana on how many tattoos are below your waist.”</p><p>“Ah, you want the show.” He traced the dark swirling lines tattooed on his left pectoral, fingertips dancing along his skin. </p><p>“I thought that’s what <em> we </em> were doing,” Leliana said, the pout in her voice laced with a lingering, teasing edge that made Sia smile.</p><p>“We still can,” Sia replied before tipping up her chin invitation, one Leliana happily accepted. Zevran sat on his haunches, watching Leliana plant small kisses along the column of Sia’s throat while Sia tangled her fingers in the other woman’s hair. Holding her there, encouraging her.</p><p>A growl rose up in his throat as Zevran slipped off the bed. <em> Were they trying to outdo him? How dare they. </em>Keeping his eyes on them, Zevran leaned over and ran his fingers through the flame of the nearest candle. From the corner of his eye he saw them both freeze and turn their heads in tandem to watch him. It was hard not to smirk as he dipped a finger into the hot wax and brought it to his chest.</p><p>He heard Leliana gasp softly, but Sia made no noise. She didn’t need to. Her eyes were hot on him, tracking every move, every tick of his muscles. “Couldn’t have you showing me up,” he said quietly as he dragged that waxy fingertip down his sternum. The wax had cooled quickly but it was still warm enough to sting, raising the smallest of red welts on either side of where he drew the wax line. </p><p>Zevran repeated the motions to gather the wax, but this time he traced a swirling pattern on the outside of the tattoo on his right shoulder, near his bicep. “I find a bit of pain with my pleasure to be….highly desirable in most situations,” he said as he watched the women. “Sometimes the line is blurry, but if trust is established, then a little pain is welcome.” He sucked in a breath as the hot wax burned a bit more on the sensitive skin inside his bicep, where the tattoo curled into a delicate filigreed end. </p><p>“So I ask you both. Do we have trust between us?” he asked, the smirk on his face unshakeable but there was something else there. </p><p>A fragile vulnerability.</p><p>Without a word, Leliana slipped off of Sia, letting the other woman have room to stand and make her way to Zevran. The bard followed closely behind while their hands were clasped together.</p><p>“I trust you,” Sia said, Leliana’s grip a comforting pressure. Zevran was being open, honest. Not impuissant, since being vulnerable with the right people involved a level of power. But for them, in this moment, something was forged between the three of them. “And I trust Leliana. And I want you both.”  Sia dipped her head as she weighed her next words. “Will you let me kiss you, Zevran?”</p><p>Her simple question backhanded him, sending his mind reeling. “More than anything, yes,” he managed to choke out as he reached for her. </p><p>It had fangs, this kiss; teeth that sunk into lower lips, tongues that twined and twirled. Sia lost herself in long seconds where their lips met and their breath traded space, life passing between and into each other.</p><p>Both people were vying for an upper hand that didn’t exist. They had each buried feelings and desires so deep that even when advances had been made, neither Sia nor Zevran fully grasped what it would mean to actually touch each other without the preamble of friendship or teasing.</p><p>
  <em> Fingers skating over skin, the harsh bumps of weapon-worn and battle-earned calluses ignored to chase. To feel. To know how the other responded, the gasps they loosened, the moans that rattled their throats and shook their cores until nerves were enflamed by desire. </em>
</p><p>And at the first fluttering touch of Zevran’s fingers on her waist, Sia’s knees buckled. Silk clad arms lent assistance to slide around her hips and steady her. But she was focused on <em> him </em>.</p><p>It was only when those silk clad arms were no longer brushing against her that Sia broke apart from Zevran, panting and wild-eyed and shaking. Zevran greedily tried to pull her back with a groan and insistent pull of his hands on her ribs, but Sia shushed him with a teasing finger and turned around. Leliana had taken a few steps back, a grin splashed across her face. There was still an impishness to her expression, even as she said, “That’s my cue.”</p><p>They protested at the same time, going to her.</p><p>“Leli, no - “</p><p>“We want you here.”</p><p>She held out a hand to stop them. “And while I both know and appreciate this, there’s something more here.” Leliana’s dark eyes flashed, and her grin widened into a wicked slash. “I want to watch.”</p><p>Lightning raced down Sia’s spine just as Zevran drew an arm around her. It was the first time she’d felt cold since the three of them had joined together in Leliana’s room. <em> And Sia remembered she was naked and it thrilled her to know she stood between these two powerful, beautiful beings while bared before them. </em>But it was a cold born of an untrod and otherworldly thrill, knowing Leliana would sit her dainty, perky ass into a chair and watch them fuck while shadows danced around them</p><p>“Leli,” she said softly, reaching out to brush hair from the other woman’s face. “Are you sure?” She grinned, sharp white teeth standing out in the darkened room. “I’d love nothing more than to be wrapped around you both.”</p><p>“Mi amor,” Zevran whispered roughly, his lips brushing her ear. “Think of it. I am laid bare before you both, but only one of you is touching me. And meanwhile, she is touching <em> herself </em> .” Zevran flicked his glance at Leliana, who was gulping air as though her life depended on it. “We will know. <em> We will hear her. </em>” He shivered, running dexterous fingers up, up to brush the bottoms of her breasts. “She will not be able to help herself.”</p><p>Leliana scoffed, but her face was alight with desire. “As if I can’t control myself.” Her smile softened into something less animal and more angel. “But if I can’t, I doubt either of you would blame me.”</p><p>Zevran placed his chin on Sia’s shoulder, peering at Leliana as she watched him. Sia was caught, bouncing back and forth between her desires, her needs spiraling into a tight cyclone that whispered <em> take take be taken </em>.</p><p>Zevran skimmed his lips over her neck, then down as his hands cupped her breasts. “The bed,” he said softly, pushing her gently toward the piles of blankets and pillows.</p><p>“You’ll wreck my beautiful pillow fort,” Sia replied, unable to keep the smile out of her voice.</p><p>“I intend to put it to very good use.” He steered her to the bed and just as she moved to lie down, his hand whipped out, smacking her on the ass.</p><p>Sia jumped, Leliana cackled, and Zevran grabbed Sia’s calves as she landed on her back, sending pillows flying. “I want to know you this way,” he said, voice rusty with need as he kneeled before her.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Sia woke up between two impossibly warm bodies - soft curves hugging her back and lithe arms curling her close to a muscular chest. <em> That was perfect. Perfectly amazing and debauched all at the same time. </em></p><p>Leliana hadn’t stayed away for too long, but had waited until Sia had been so thoroughly fucked by Zevran that she was a boneless puddle on the mattress. Then the minx slipped between their sweat-slicked bodies and toyed with them both.</p><p>Everything else had been a haze of lust and pleasure, so far removed from the dirt and blood and memories of demons and shattered teeth.</p><p>It would be easy to fool herself into becoming complacent. For all its problems, the Circle tower had been a home with roaring fires, tall walnut bookcases, tables and chairs worn by generations of mages. It had been all she’d known.</p><p>Being a Grey Warden meant escaping that life and the stifled gulps of air she took every night as the darkness closed around her. It meant trading a slow burning nightmare for one that shrieked and clawed while they traveled openly through Ferelden. It meant leaving her friends, leaving Cullen.</p><p>But it meant finding <em> this </em>, she thought fondly as she pushed Zevran’s hair away from his face. Leliana’s arm tightened around her waist and she grumbled in her sleep. Sia chuckled softly.</p><p><em> I’m okay here </em>.</p><p>She drifted back to sleep, unaware and uncaring as to the time. They deserved to rest.</p><p>The knock at the door minutes later made all three of them start, but Sia didn’t move. She saw Zevran’s eyelids flicker open, the haze of sleep melting into a foggy awareness. When his eyes focused on her, he grinned. “Do we pretend to still be asleep, or should I yell at whoever is rude enough to knock this early in the morning?”</p><p>“How do you know what time it is?” she whispered back.</p><p>“Old Crow trick,” he admitted. “I will teach it to you sometime.”</p><p>Another knock sounded, more insistent this time, and it was followed up by Wynne’s voice. “Leliana, I apologize for the early hour. I was hoping we could go over a few readings from the Chant -”</p><p>“Go away, Wynne,” Leliana said in a groggy voice. “I’m still asleep and I do not want to get up.” Sia’s eyes went wide and before she could laugh, Zevran put his hand gently over her mouth. </p><p>“I understand,” Wynne replied from behind the door. “Shall I just leave this outside -”</p><p>“Keep it,” Leliana replied, still muffled from where her head rested against Sia’s back. “I’ll retrieve it when I’m not naked and spooning two people.”</p><p><em> That </em> made Zevran snort and Sia laughed despite Zevran’s hurried attempts at shushing her. There was a moment of deathly silent air, and then Wynne said, “Tell Sia Morrigan wishes to see her before we depart.” Sia bit her lip, laughter bubbling up in her chest. “And remind Zevran he still owes me five silver from the other night when he lost at Wicked Grace.”</p><p>The dam burst, and all three giggled like school children caught sneaking candy. “I don’t know what’s worse,” Leliana grumbled good-naturedly. “Wynne knowing, or Wynne catching us.”</p><p>“What is there to catch, Leli? We’re adults, we consented.” Sia stroked Leliana’s arm with her fingertips. “And we had fun.”</p><p>“The best kind of fun,” Zevran purred, nuzzling Sia’s neck while reaching behind her to touch Leliana. “We should definitely do that again.”</p><p>Sia grinned. “Why not now?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Discussions of body autonomy within</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alistair stared at the worn map of Ferelden, marking a path back to the Brecilian forest. With Arl Emon on the mend, the loyalty of the mages and dwarves secured, and the muscle of the golems backing their play, he felt as though things were looking up.</p><p>Maybe. Hopefully.</p><p><em> And it’s not muscle is it? It’s hard, unyielding, unforgiving stone. With people’s souls in them </em>. That decision still left a foul taste in his mouth. Yes, some of the Legion of the Dead had volunteered and they now inhabited the massive stone bodies Branka and her slightly addled followers had been busily crafting. Dozens of pale, hollow dwarves had come out of the shadows not long after they’d agreed to Branka’s terms, jumping to work the forges, mine stone, and “put the volunteers to rest”.</p><p>Alistair hadn’t wanted to know, and neither had anyone else in the party. It had been easier to walk away, but Alistair felt hunted by guilt. The long, cold slog back from Orzammar had given him time to think and now, camped out in a hollow nook beneath a cliff filled with pine trees, the oncoming night had given him some distance and much needed time.</p><p>Morrigan and Sia had traipsed into the woods as soon as they’d arrived to continue Sia’s lessons. The last few weeks had given Sia more bounce in her step and a bit of color back in her cheeks. But he didn’t know if that could be completely attributed to learning better control of her magic and setting her mind at ease.</p><p>
  <em> Night after night, Zevran disappears into her tent but he doesn’t always stay.  </em>
</p><p>Alistair couldn’t help but watch them closely, seeking those little signs of affection the besotted often gave away. Not that he truly knew what that was like, but he’d read enough pulpy romance novels to know what to look for.</p><p>He smiled at the memory of Henderson smuggling those novels in under the Templars’ noses and their stringy-haired, awkward teenage selves trading them back and forth like a drawing of a naked woman. Not that there hadn’t been those too, but Alistair always preferred the novels. The writing was mostly atrocious and full of cliches, but at least with a book he could use his imagination to fill in the gaps.</p><p>But Zevran and Sia (<em> and Leliana </em>) were not any different while they traveled. She laughed at his over the top attempts at flirting, but she also made jokes with him and traded stories with Wynne. She even got Sten talking, albeit haltingly and not for more than a few minutes at a time. And she and Morrigan had a bond, which struck him as beyond strange.</p><p>Bit by bit, Sia was drawing all of them to her. Moths to the flame. He deeply, desperately envied her charm and easy way with words. But he didn’t envy her magic, or her pain, or her knowledge that the Fade might rip her apart one day. She’d confessed her fears one night while they were on watch and since then, a low resonance of dread had made a permanent home in his stomach.</p><p>“Any luck?” Leliana asked as she approached with two mugs of something steaming. </p><p>Alistair traced a thin black line that disappeared into the southern depths of the Brecilian Forest. “I think it’s an old logging trail. It’ll keep us off the main road and should help us avoid most trouble.”</p><p>Leliana set the mugs down to peer at map. “That’s good. Yesterday was too close for comfort.”</p><p>“Agreed.” He shivered, remembering how they barely missed being seen by a small assortment of soldiers, all wearing the Loghain family crest on their armor. They could have easily taken them down, but in the moment before he’d charged forward, Zevran had motioned to Leliana and the two snuck around the men while the rest of the party hid behind a hill. The soldiers had apparently not been worried about encounters on the road, for they talked loudly of finding Grey Wardens and “chopping them up”, then serving their heads to Loghain. </p><p>Utter nonsense, bravado talking more than skill, he realized as he listened to them swagger and brashly proclaim their ferociousness in battle. They could have taken them out, but caution stilled their blades as Morrigan spotted a merchant caravan in the distance. It looked a lot like two dwarves atop a wide, canvas-covered wagon pulled by two horses, and the look he and Sia exchanged had made them launch into action.</p><p>Taking down Loghain’s men and protecting Bodhan and Sandal hadn’t been the challenge. But Shrieker ambush that happened as Zevran was quietly cutting the throats of the few surviving soldiers had been brutal, a flurry of earsplitting screams and claws and them winning by the luck of a well placed arrow and Sia’s barely contained control.  When they were left heaving for air amid piles of bodies, Alistair watched Sia close her eyes against the lingering green-gray mists that swirled around her. Slowly the mists receded and Sia was herself once more.</p><p>It had been frightening enough to face down a band of Shriekers on the open road, but it was another thing to be trapped while doing so. The road cut through a deep valley and there was no space to retreat or regroup. Just their strength and will to survive. No one fancied being caught like that again, so Alistair had taken to the maps to find a new path.</p><p>But his mind churned. Last night’s nightmares had been bad enough to keep him awake well past the witching hour. And even now Alistair felt the cold, waxy finger of anxiety muddling around in his brain. He shook his head in an attempt to clear away the cobwebs, refocusing on the map.</p><p>“So we are...about two weeks out from the edge of the forest?” Leliana asked, putting her face close to the parchment. “With any luck, it’ll be a quiet journey.”  She straightened, smiling. “You know, the stories about the Brecilian forest are steeped in myth and legend.”</p><p>Alistair gave her a curious look.  “More than just elves and aravels?”</p><p>“Hmm yes. There’s an entire set of legends around the power of the wild halla and their meaning for the elves.” Leliana paused, casting her gaze to the left in thought. “But they are not my stories to share. Perhaps we can hear them if we meet the elves.”</p><p>“If?”</p><p>She shrugged. “They are secretive, and have every right to be. They’ve been hunted and persecuted for hundreds of years, despite Shartan being an elf. And after meeting his...ghost before finding the Urn of Sacred Ashes, I’ve been even more bothered by their story.”  </p><p>Alistair hummed in thought. “I’d like to know about their culture, their lives. The Chantry teaches so little and what they do teach is colored through a certain lens.” He smiled wanly. “It definitely feels like something a Grey Warden would do. What Duncan might have done.”</p><p>Leliana placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “It’s what a decent person would do. And a leader.” She grinned at the blush that crept up on his cheeks. “Do we wish to go down that road now?”</p><p>“Nope.”</p><p>“Very well.” She squeezed his shoulder then released him. “But for what it’s worth, I agree with Sia.” She gave his shoulder one last squeeze, then walked to her tent and disappeared inside.</p><p>Alistair blew out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, feeling that old, familiar tightness in his chest at the mere mention of him and “leader” in the same sentence. There were days where he wondered if he’d feel differently if he’d grown up in Emon’s home versus with the Templars. Or, if becoming a Templar would have changed his fate.</p><p>It was easy to get lost in the “what ifs” when alone in the dark. He wasn’t keen on being left with his thoughts. Distraction was key. So back to the map it was as he cross-referenced it with a geography book he had stashed away in his pack. And an hour later, he had a pretty well-drawn out map of their next several weeks of travel. He figured they’d get spotted by elven scouts before they reached any kind of Dalish enclave, which was ideal. As long as the scouts didn’t fire arrows before they could talk.</p><p>“Now where did I put that?” Alistair muttered to himself as he rummaged around in his tent. When he closed his hand around the cool metal emblem, he grinned. “You thought you had alluded me, you rascal!”</p><p>“Alistair, are you talking to yourself?”</p><p>He froze, having been caught in the act, then relaxed as Sia poked her head inside his tent. “Come, my lady, and partake of my humble abode.”</p><p>She chuckled and ducked inside, sitting down beside his bedroll. But the look on her face betrayed something other than delight. “Ugh, what is that smell?”</p><p>“Oh shit.” He grabbed the old pair of boots he’d been airing out and shoved them inside a burlap bag. “They uh...clearly needed to not smell.”</p><p>Her nose wrinkled. “Ugh. Again.” But she smiled despite the stink. “So what were you chattering to yourself about?”</p><p>He held up a silver pin so Sia could see the outline of the Grey Warden symbol. “This. Duncan gave it to me when I first joined. I figure since I have the griffon my shield, you might want to wear it. If we look the part of the Wardens, the Dalish might not take our eyes out with their arrows.”</p><p>Sia gently took the pin from him, turning it over in her hands to watch the silver reflect the faint lantern-light. “It’s beautiful. It’s a very kind gesture.”</p><p>“Yeah, Duncan was like that.” A flitting emotion passed over his face, something like sadness and memory wrapped together. “He said the Wardens used to give them out to all the new recruits, but people were selling them and non-Wardens started wearing them, so the practice was dropped.” His smile dropped, his eyes fixed on the pin. “A pity, really. That people would profit off the very order that took them in, no matter their past.”</p><p>She shrugged. “People are people, Alistair. Some of them are decent, some of them are awful, and most live in-between those two. Like a nearly benign selfishness that doesn’t make them consider the consequences.” Sia cocked her head, expression going slightly slack as she stewed in her own thoughts. “The person who sold that pin may have had good cause to. And the person who bought may have, as well. Most things aren’t black and white.”</p><p>He sighed. “But it still feels like a betrayal, no matter the reason.”</p><p>“Oh, it very much is. But say the warden who sold their pin may have wanted to outrun the order. Maybe it was out of self preservation, or a desire to see their family again. No matter the motivation, they <em> chose </em> to shirk their duties as a Grey Warden. Let’s say the person who bought the pin didn’t know what it was at first but once they discovered its meaning, decided to use it for free drinks at a tavern.”  She traced the right wing of the griffon with her finger. “Neither one of them could have anticipated the grief-stricken mother who came to the ‘Warden’ looking for someone to avenge her son, killed by Darkspawn two moons ago. Nor could they have anticipated the fake Warden actually finding some bravery and trying to raid the Darkspawn nest, and getting themself killed in the process.”</p><p>“You sound like Duncan, a little,” Alistair said softly. “He always had a story that was packed with a lesson. Bit depressing, but still important to hear.”</p><p>“You mean my waxing philosophical is starting to help? Well then, my job here is done.” Sia said it with a small smile. “Honestly, you could tell me to fuck off and I’d understand. It’s easy for me to say all this, having spent most of my life in the Circle. People who study and study but never <em> live </em> can’t say much when faced with folks who have seen awful things in their time.”</p><p>Alistair had gone from looking at her with gentle fondness to curiosity. “Huh.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He pointed to the back of the pin. “Never noticed that.”</p><p>Sia turned the pin over and looked to the small notch just peeking out over the pin back. “It’s like there’s something here…” She reached into her mass of curls piled up on her head and pulled out a pin. After a few moments of prodding and poking, a thin sliver of glass popped out of the pin.</p><p>Alistair was baffled. “What in the blazes is that?”</p><p>“It’s a reliquary.”  She grinned, delighted. “I’ve only ever seen them disguised as a wand or a quill. This is incredibly intricate, and delicate. It’s remarkable.”</p><p>“What are they used for?”</p><p>“Mostly storing memories.”  She held the thin glass up to the light. “The Chantry uses them for knowledge and lore, but for mages, these are priceless.” Her look turned troubled. “They’re also incredibly difficult to make. They take months, sometimes years. And when you store a memory, there’s always a chance it will backfire. That the magic keeping the memory in stasis will need more juice and you risk losing the memory completely. Or knocking yourself into a coma.”</p><p>Alistair wanted to touch it but was afraid to. “Duncan only told me the pin used to belong to a Warden. He never said who.”</p><p>“Maybe we should find out. If you’re game.” On his nod, she put the glass in her palm then turned a very serious look on him. “Don’t tell Wynne or Morrigan I did this. And if something happens….”</p><p>“I’ll get them.”</p><p>With a nod, Sia put her free hand over the glass, cupping it between her palms. Slowly, a soft blue light began to glow, then grow, its beam fracturing out between her fingers. The light pulsed once, twice, three times.</p><p>Then in the silence, they heard a voice say, “Okay, I think I’ve got this damnable thing working.” Sia opened her hands and the light flickered into a faint image hovering before them. A man’s face, with thin features, a long nose, and a queue of hair tied back away from his hollow cheeks. “Right so uh….right. I’m a Grey Warden.  And I never want to go into the Deep Roads ever again. So I guess consider this my termination notice.”</p><p>There was a long pause, and then the recording said, “So whoever is listening to this, I’m a Grey Warden and my name is Anders.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em> A few days later </em>
</p><p> </p><p>A sleek black and silver wolf ran back to camp, a rabbit firmly clamped in its jaws. Bright green eyes tracked movement in the camp until it was satisfied they were not enemies, then it trotted toward the fire. </p><p>“Ah perfect,” Wynne said, taking the rabbit from the wolf’s mouth. “One more for the stew.”</p><p>Having been denied the chance to drop its catch and walk away, the wolf sat by Zevran, who patted it on the head.</p><p>“Ten gold she snaps at him if he does it again,” Leliana whispered to Sia.</p><p>“You’re on.”</p><p>While Zevran patiently handed Wynne carrots with one hand, he brought the other down to pat the wolf once more. The wolf lifted its head, its nose tipped up just within reach of Zevran’s fingers….and bit down very gently. More a warning than a threat. But it was still a bite.</p><p>“Damn,” Sia muttered, handing Leliana her gold. The bard pocketed it without a word.</p><p>Zevran left his fingers there for a long moment, resting in the wolf’s mouth. Then they both pulled away. A flash of light made Sia flinch, and then Morrigan was standing before her. “Your family, Sia.”</p><p>Sia arched an eyebrow. “Yes?”</p><p>“We are close to their home?”</p><p>“Unfortunately. But our path goes south and their home is in the northwest.”</p><p>Morrigan must have sensed her hesitation (or heard the acid in Sia’s words) because she replied, “Then I must inform you that your brother and a small contingent of guards march this direction. They’ll likely be here by morning.”</p><p>“And we won’t be here. We move at first light, like always.”</p><p>Morrigan nodded. “Understood.”  She walked away without another word, seemingly satisfied with Sia’s curt answer.</p><p>“That’s it?” Alistair couldn’t help himself. “Sia, your family.”</p><p>“It’s not something I wish to discuss.” Sia uncorked a bottle of wine and passed it to Leliana. She looked up and saw the confusion and slight hurt on Alistair’s face. Swiping a hand down her face, which now felt hot, she replied, “I’m sorry. It’s a difficult topic and not one I like to revisit.”</p><p>“Bah, we’re your family Warden,” Oghren said as he walked by, axe slung over his shoulder. He belched, wiped his mouth with his hand, and said, “ ‘Kay, I’m going to bed. Don’t let a darkspawn eat me in the middle of the night.” And he tottered off to pass out drunkenly in his tent.</p><p>Wynne shook her head and kept stirring the stew, her eyes focused on her task. But Sia could feel the unspoken questions from her and everyone else. Everyone but Morrigan and Zevran. Some part of her smarted at the knowledge that the others - even Leliana - wanted to know <em> why </em>. </p><p>Well, maybe Sten didn’t, but he was as unreadable as a book written in invisible ink and was currently roughhousing with Courage in the field near camp. She could hear their growls from her seat near the fire.  She closed her eyes and sighed. “My family is the reason I went to the Circle.”</p><p>“You didn’t want to go?” Alistair asked. </p><p>Everyone missed her footsteps, but they definitely heard Morrigan scoff as she approached, a torn cloak and needle and thread in her hand. “Not every mage wishes to be locked up in a cold stone tower with armored jailers ready to strike them down for any tiny infraction,” she spat, eyes flashing in warning. </p><p>Alistair furrowed his brows. “The Circle helps mages.” He raised his hands at Morrigan’s sputtering. “I know not every Circle and not every mage. There’s a lot of bad there. But if it could be redone, remade…” He trailed off in thought, poking the fire until it spat glowing embers into the dark air.</p><p>“It is still a prison,” Morrigan said in a low voice. Sia immediately felt her hackles raise at the giant <b> <em>WARNING </em> </b> sign Alistair was failing to see. <em> Should probably save him from being incinerated </em>, she thought grimly.</p><p>Zevran saved her the effort, and possibly Alistair’s life. He put a hand on Alistair’s arm and leaned in to say something too quiet for anyone else to hear. Alistair blanched, shook his head, and grinned feebly. “I should probably stop talking.”</p><p>“Now, that’s not fair, Morrigan,” Leliana said. “Neither one of you know the experiences of a Circle mage and we’ve two of them sitting here.”</p><p>“And this Circle mage isn’t interested in getting into an argument,” Wynne said gamely. “I want to eat my stew and go read my book.”</p><p>Sia could feel the tension rising like static electricity after a storm, her skin prickling with the unspoken heat of it. Morrigan wasn’t going to back down, but she didn’t think it entirely fair to Alistair to make him slink away into the shadows and not speak his mind.</p><p>She did know with fervent ferocity that she absolutely didn’t want any part of this conversation. She stood, nodded her silent thanks to Wynne for the stew, and took her bowl, temper, and relief to the field where Sten and Courage fought playfully. Zevran winked at her as she left, but it felt like a reassurance to her, not to anyone else. </p><p><em> If he wants to keep the peace, more power to him. I’ve not the strength nor stomach for it tonight. </em> As she walked away, she heard Morrigan’s voice rise again as Alistair tried to parry her jabs.</p><p>Both Sten and Courage registered her approach but did not break up their tussle. Courage was nipping at Sten’s armored side while Sten tried to push him off. There was something rather wholesome about the whole exchange - two warriors acknowledging each others’ strengths while also trying to get a leg up on the other combatant.</p><p>Sia watched them wrestle, then laughed as Courage nosed at Sten to get up so he could chase the Qunari. And surprisingly enough, Sten acquiesced, sending the Mabari into fits of delighted barking. As she watched them cross the wide field at a clip, she began to stare past them to the inky black treeline.</p><p>
  <em> What if we just left? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You mean left Ferelden? As the last two Grey Wardens available to stop the Blight? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Yes. I do. </em>
</p><p>Her jaw tensed as she recalled that conversation with Alistair when they’d first started their journey. It felt like an age ago. She’d been serious in the moment but had regretted it later, leaving a sour taste in the back of her throat as they camped for the night. Alistair had been taken aback by her suggestion but hadn’t espoused much on it past that. But it had worried her for some time. The Wardens had freed her from the Circle and this was how she repaid them? By desiring escape - again - as soon as she’d cleared the cold stone of the tower?</p><p>But she remembered fields of lavender and hay and apple picking in the fall and other small childhood delights before she became a mage. <em> Became a mage was an odd way to think of it. More like had her blood and body set on fire, and nearly their home, from something uncontrollable in her very bones. </em></p><p>It was the first time in a long string of instances where she realized her body was no longer hers. Autonomy was not hers to claim or own. She became property of the Tower, property of her teachers, her soul’s deed signed to the magic in her blood that she never asked for.</p><p>And even when they had sex, her body didn’t totally belong to her; she was too concerned with showing Cullen how to love and be loved, to put up with his fumblings because he made her weak in the knees. Any pleasure she sought with him was on a timer, fear of getting caught keeping them from truly indulging in each other.</p><p>Sia pulled back from the fields, turning to watch the shouting match seem to die down between Morrigan and Alistair, with Wynne and Leliana pulling them apart and likely speaking sense into them both. She <em> should </em> have adjudicated it, but right now she didn’t have the energy.</p><p>“Do not worry about them,” Zevran said as he approached her, materializing out of the shadows like some kind of wraith. “They will always fight. And since they will not sleep with each other, there isn’t much else we can do other than keep them from murder.”</p><p>Sia laughed weakly, relieved to see him, desperate to put her arms around him. “The problem is if they slept together, they probably would kill each other,” she said as she stepped into the waiting circle of his arms. “If you count self-loathing as a sufficient cause for murder.”</p><p>He pulled her close with a grin. “I can’t imagine it would be that bad. Morrigan is quite attractive, and I find Alistair’s naivete charming. But it is more than likely he would get turned on from fear, not from attraction.”</p><p>Sia snorted, unable to suppress the smile on her face. “Oh there’s a picture. Yeesh.” She snuggled against him, content for a long moment.</p><p>“What is it, mi amor?” He pulled her face up for his inspection, sharp hazel-gold eyes not missing a detail. “You were sad tonight.”</p><p>“How do you know?” she whispered, staring almost slack-jawed at him. “How do you always know?”</p><p>“For those I care about, I tend to pay very close attention.” Zevran planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “Do you wish to talk about it?”</p><p>Sia let out one long, shaky breath. “I keep thinking about the Circle. My life there.”</p><p>“Before all this.”</p><p>She nodded. “Not in a good way, though. The more I hear Morrigan talk, the more I realize how trapped I was. How easily I was made content with my fate. I could have…” She trailed off as she felt that old, unbidden frustration licking like fire in her chest. “I could have burned that place down.”</p><p>Zevran felt the harsh, prickling energy of her magic, then the slow decline as she swallowed it whole, pushing it back to the recesses of her consciousness. He chose to wait her out, watching as the brief flicker of green light behind her eyes faded and she was, once again, Sia. “Do you wish a way to channel all that energy?” he murmured in her ear. When she nodded, he silently steered her to her tent. Courage followed at their heels, his wrestle match with Sten folded in an even draw.</p><p>“Go to Zevran’s,” she said as they neared her tent, studiously ignoring the tense atmosphere around the main campfire. Courage harrumphed but gave her hand a lick and Zevran’s knee a nudge before he trotted off, then inside Zevran’s tent. “Mabaris are so grumpy sometimes.”</p><p>Zevran gave her a playful shove into the tent, and Sia stumbled with more emotion than effort, purposefully tangling her feet in the blanket near her bedroll. He caught her as she tripped. “Need me to save you, oh beautiful lady?” he growled in her ear.</p><p>Sia pushed against his chest and when he stumbled dramatically, she stayed in place, a hand to her chest. “You cad.”</p><p>He grinned, all teeth and lust. “Are we playing a game?”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>He dove for her, his lips hot and pliant against hers, his hands wandering under the folds of her robes. “Who is here to save whom?”</p><p>She tipped her head back against the onslaught of his questing, determined lips and tongue on her jaw and neck. “I don’t care. Just make me not think for a bit.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Zevran and Sia’s relationship takes a turn</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Another set of potential allies, another argument.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana’s face showed the weariness Sia felt. The argument about whom to help had gone round and round, with Wynne adamant the elves needed their help and the werewolves were dangerous. And not surprisingly, the vote for brute strength (and interestingly, mercy) was where Morrigan and Sten stood. Oghren didn’t care, and Zevran had stayed quiet but close to Sia during the exchange.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>attracting attention from the elves who had allowed them to camp near their current site. Sia regretted ever letting have anyone else but her and Alistair have a say.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Could we all just stop for a moment?” Alistair asked wearily, but he was completely ignored. “Please stop.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia met his eyes across the little half circle of logs everyone was seated on and nodded once. Something flashed over his face, a dark shadow of anger, and it twisted his mouth into a frown that would make a Chantry Mother think twice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“ENOUGH!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That is incredibly hot,” Zevran said in her ear and she hummed her agreement.  Seeing Alistair like this, though discomfiting, made her proud. Maybe he wouldn’t get talked over by his advisors if he took the throne.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yes, it was a little hot. She saw the Warden, the fighter, the commander who gave orders and expected them to be followed. He was transformed in that moment, and she saw who he could be. He just needed a little confidence, and the backing of those following him. She was determined to not let him down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair was breathing hard, but his voice was steady as he said, “Enough, all of you. While Sia and I appreciate your opinions, we are the Grey Wardens. Our job is to gather allies to battle the Blight and defeat the Archdemon. You are all taking risks, putting your lives on the line to help us.” He met her eyes again. “But ultimately, our decision has to be in line with what secures us any advantage. Moral high ground or not.” He motioned for Sia to come with him. “We’re going to discuss this, just the two of us, and we’ll let you know our decision.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran bumped his shoulder into hers, an encouragement to follow Alistair as he walked away. She had to work very hard to not laugh at the stunned expressions on the others’ faces. Well, all except for Sten, who rarely had an expression, and Oghren, who was too busy filling his flask to notice what was going on.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia followed in Alistair’s wake as he marched over to a small grove where the elves’ halla were chewing on the clover that grew there. His back was ramrod straight, his steps almost Templar-precise. “I think you could have felled them with a feather,” she said, tone light and joking. “Thank you for stopping the arguing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair unclenched his jaw and tried to smile. But he didn’t feel it reach his eyes; it was too strained. The entire debacle with the Dalish and the werewolves was going to end in blood. “Ah, that was nothing. It’s easier to just….” He sighed. “Am I a fool? Is that what people think of me? That I’m goofy Alistair first, Grey Warden a distant second.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia shook her head as she walked to him. “I know who you are. And the others….who cares?”  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair’s head snapped up at her words, his face contorted like he had so many questions he wanted to ask all at once. “You’re right,” he said, tone suddenly proud. “We’re the Grey Wardens. We survived the Joining, and Ostagar, and the Fade, and every other obstacle thrown our way. We wouldn’t have done some of it without them, but we’re also the only ones who can kill the Archdemon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Even though we’re not exactly sure how to kill such a thing.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good to know I was right for once,” he said, eyes shining. “Most of the time I just feel like I’m bumbling my way through it all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia took his big, rough hands in hers, holding them gently. His skin was warm, almost burning against her own. “So am I. That’s the secret - we’re all just stumbling in the dark, hoping someone else will be smart enough to light a candle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair nodded sagely. “I hate stubbing my toe on things in dark rooms. It hurts like the devil.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They exchanged a smile and Alistair squeezed her hands but didn’t let go. And she didn’t pull away. “So, the Dalish and the werewolves.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “What’s our play here? I feel for the werewolves, they didn’t choose their fate. It’s not their fault their ancestors were heinous.” He gave the Dalish aravels behind them a thoughtful look. “But the elves are being infected by those very werewolves.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia took a deep breath. “I think that’s part of the Grey Warden deal. No easy choices. If we can convince Zathrian to end the curse, perhaps that’s the best middle ground.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair nodded. “But we’re also up against the oncoming Landsmeet and the oh, little problem of the Archdemon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And if we spend too much time here, we’re risking more lives.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowned and in the moment, Sia’s heart broke a little at the sad, resigned look on his face. “Plan A, try to broker peace and Plan B, save the Dalish?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think we have to. If Zathrian gets pissy or makes us do more stupid running around in the forest, we’ll get Witherfang’s heart and end the curse ourselves.” She looked down at their hands. “It’s not fair to the Dalish what’s happening to them. They want to live and be left alone, away from the humans who have caused them so much pain for so long. I can’t blame them, we’re a horrible scourge on most people in Thedas.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grip on her hands tightened. Not painfully, but he was using his hold to pull her closer. “We can do this. I know we can.” Alistair was drawn to her in the moment, watching her heart be unveiled before him. She made hard decisions, ones he didn’t always agree with, and ones he wasn’t brave enough to make himself. But he should have been more supportive, should have helped take the lead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can,” she asserted, tone more steady than she felt. “How are you feeling in all of this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze turned sharp. “Me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked behind her, the movement comically exaggerated. “Is there another bastard prince somewhere?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha. Ha ha ha. But seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair sighed. “I’m….okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smirked. “Convincing.” Sia shook his hands gently. “You don’t have to share but I wanted to check.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair tilted his head, considering for a long moment. “I….I miss Duncan in all of this. I miss his cool head, even when things are bad.” He squeezed her fingers. “But I’m glad we’re in this together. We can’t change the past, but we can help dictate the future.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia’s heart was near bursting with pride, and she felt tears prick in the corners of her eyes. “I’d follow you anywhere. My King.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And for once, Alistair didn’t reject those words, or the feeling behind them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“Zathrian, end the curse!” Sia’s throat was on fire, her limbs growing more heavy as the toll of her magic took hold. “Do it now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will not!” the Keeper screamed back, his face bloody from abrasions gained during the fight with the werewolves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We had an agreement!” Alistair roared right before he cut down another werewolf. He spun away to deflect the rake of long, curled talons that just missed his spine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And my children are dead!” Zathrian’s eyes glowed, his rage powering whatever spell he was preparing, and Sia knew.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This will end in our deaths.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She took a deep breath and pulled on what was left of her mana reserves. Her mind emptied, and was immediately consumed by the deep green fog of the Fade.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she didn’t need the power. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Time to make good on your promise,” Zevran said, his voice low and deadly. While the battle raged on, the rogue had snuck up behind Zathrian and was now holding a dagger to his throat. “End the curse, or die.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The glowing, crackling blue energy around Zathrian sputtered, like a candle flickering in the wind. “They are the same thing,” he spat out. For a long moment, Sia thought Zathrian would turn on Zevran, and one of her worst fears would come true.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran pressed the dagger tip into Zathrian’s throat. A single drop of dark red blood welled, then beaded onto the dagger. And the magic around Zathrian sputtered out, extinguished in one gust of sagging shoulders and suddenly downturned eyes.  The shame on the elf’s face was so raw, so visceral, that Sia’s gut clenched at the sight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Lady of the Forest, and her werewolves, noticed the change immediately. “Stop!” she yelled, her hands out in a placating gesture. “Stop, my wolves.” Her pupil-less gaze focused on Zathrian. “He is done causing harm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The werewolf growls that echoed in the wide stone room sent a primal thrill down Sia’s spine. They had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>inches</span>
  </em>
  <span> from evisceration. And from the destruction of Ferelden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolves growled, low and threatening, but they stopped fighting. Whatever hold the Lady had on them, Sia was grateful for the intervention. “But my Lady,” Swiftrunner protested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, Swiftrunner. We will end the curse, and I suspect you will be content with the additional outcomes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zathrian dropped to his knees but Zevran stayed close. “You shame me, spirit. I fought so hard, for so long, out of sadness and loss and guilt.” Tears tracked down his face, streaking the dirt and blood painted on his face and making a garish tableau. “But I need vengeance for them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The wolves growled again. The air crackled with tension. “Zathrian, end the curse,” Zevran said, not dropping his dagger. “Drop the curse, or we let the wolves have you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Vengeance cannot be taken against innocents. It is then murder, and you become the thing you hated and feared for so long.” The Lady stepped closer, her swirling, vine-like form still stoic. “But what you do harms many, including your own people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gentle squeak of weapons and armor filled the silence as Zathrian stared at them all, his eyes tracking every person in the room. Something shifted in his countenance, a resolution to a fate he had not yet voiced. “The curse ends with my death,” he said quietly. “I have lived a long time, and was never able to gain what my heart desired.”  He dropped to his knees. “Do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran met Sia’s gaze over Zathrian’s kneeling form. “Mi amor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Alistair answered. “Make it quick.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The single, vicious, precise slice of Zevran’s knife took the elf’s life. But Sia saw Zevran’s face contort, ever so briefly, as blood pooled around his boots. And that little flinch made her worried.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“I like it here,” Leliana said as they shared one of the Dalish campfires that night. “The soft creaking of the aravels, the snorts of the halla. And oh the songs! Did you hear that beautiful ballad Taeris sang earlier? So lovely, and so sad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia pressed her back against Leliana’s knees, closing her eyes against the feel of the woman’s fingers in her hair, retying her braids. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> lovely. What was it about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leliana hummed in thought before replying. “I don’t know, or presume to know, all the history behind it, but the story speaks of a young Dalish woman, skilled with blade and bow. She was a chosen of Andruil’s, and destined to lead and protect her clan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened to her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She fell in love. And the love was so strong, it tied the huntress and her soulmate together forever.”  Leliana’s fingers stilled in Sia’s hair as she stared into the fire. “But their love was counter to the destiny Andruil had made for the young woman.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So she had to make a choice,” Sia said softly. “Her love, or her goddess and her people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Seralva, that was the hunter’s name,” Zevran replied as he approached. “It is an old Dalish story, that one.” He sat down beside Sia and gave her a soft smile. Sia noticed it didn’t reach his eyes, and her heart clenched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It is a story about choice, and the consequences of power. And how easily love can lead us astray.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran’s comment hung in the air and Sia realized he wouldn’t meet her eyes. There was a haze over his eyes, making his expression almost dour. On anyone else it would look thoughtful but on a creature so full of life and pleasure like Zevran, it was like an alarm bell going off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That moment he’d taken Zathrian’s life, with all the rest witness to the cold edge of his dagger so precisely slitting the man’s throat. But Sia had watched his eyes. Those amber-green eyes became death incarnate. It was like watching a wolf slowly, methodically disembowel its prey. No emotion, no guilt, no regret.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They all knew it had been murder, even if Zathrian had begged for the end. And in that moment, Sia was reminded with a nausea-inducing curl of her gut, that Zevran had executed </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundreds</span>
  </em>
  <span> of people before he failed to kill her and Alistair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia gave Leliana a worried glance and the bard nodded. “My watch is over, so I’ll go get Oghren from whatever hole he’s fallen into.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia waited until Leliana disappeared before turning to Zevran. But she found herself without the proper words, feeling them wither and die on her tongue as her mind ran off track. But Zevran spoke first. “I am sorry, mi amor. I’ve been distant tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shook her head, trying desperately to ignore the churning of her gut. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Remember, you told him you weren’t looking for love. And you’re not. But something’s wrong.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You don’t have to apologize,” she replied slowly. “This place, this forest. I think it’s got most of us twisted around.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>What happened with Zathrian. Maker’s sainted ass, I can’t even say it. I’m a fucking coward.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran smiled thinly. “It has been quite the adventure.” When Sia gave a quick toss of her head, his face dropped. “It is late and as you noted, this place has been taxing.” He stood and brushed off his leathers, making to walk away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The coldness of it stung and no matter how much she tried to school the hurt off her face, it flashed - ugly and despondent - when he turned around. “Good night, mi amor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And he left her there, alone, by the fire in the middle of the Dalish camp. It was the first night in weeks they hadn’t shared a tent. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her hand was warm on top of his, a presence, a weight he felt to the very soles of his boots.  He looked at her and decided whatever she wanted, he would give her.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“And now,” she said even more quietly, “you’re the only person asking if I’m okay.  You’ve been with us what...two weeks?  And you’ve seen more in me, about me, than anyone else.”  She pulled her left hand away from his and reached up.  Her fingers traced the glass-sharp edge of his cheekbone, a feathery touch that made his hair stand on end.  “But I'm not looking for love, Zevran.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That made him smile.  “Neither am I.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It wasn’t heartbreak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>You had to be in love to have your heart broken. And even </span>
  <em>
    <span>if</span>
  </em>
  <span> her heart was the tiniest bit bruised, it didn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wynne had tried to counsel her on that weeks ago, and she’s brushed the mage aside like batting at a particularly irksome fly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You may have to make a hard choice, Sia. And I’m not talking about the Archdemon.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a few nights with only Courage to keep her company, Sia had surprised Leliana in her own tent soon afterwards.  And Leli, in her patient, kind way, hadn’t asked. But also hadn’t shied away from Sia’s questing mouth and roaming hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Come for me,” Sia whispered, two fingers stroking, delving, seeking. Her other hand pinched a rosy nipple and Leliana moaned, tossing her head. “Come on, love.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Leliana whined high in her throat, turning lust-blown eyes onto Sia. And when their gazes locked, she broke apart, shuddering so beautifully Sia’s breath hitched in her chest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It wasn’t until later that Sia felt guilty. She’d checked and double-checked that Leliana was okay with the circumstances but maybe she should have been more direct.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran hadn’t ignored her. But the wall between them was building each day, and he clearly wasn’t worried about what the others would think. And he certainly wasn’t intimidated by Alistair staring daggers at him every few minutes. No one knew the specifics, but also no one had to ask.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And yet as they traveled to Denerim to make preparations for the Landsmeet, which was called for four weeks from now, Sia felt dread pool like acid in her stomach. Zevran had once said if the Crows came for him, they’d lay a trap somewhere in the city. So on top of everything else, they had that to add to the list of worries.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And if you’d killed him when he’d failed……</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She snapped that thought closed. She wasn’t angry at him, but it was hard to deny the hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The gates of Denerim loomed in the distance and Sia could feel everyone go on high alert. The chances of Loghain not hearing of their plans were slim to none, and it certainly would be typical of him to try to kill them before they arrived. But as they walked, travelers and pilgrims moved around them, seeing the armor and weapons and the very large Qunari at the back of their odd little group.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We must be quite the sight,” Zevran said evenly as he stepped in line with Sia.  She hummed in reply but said nothing. From the corner of her eye, she watched him look down and of all the strange things, redden around his cheeks. “I would like to talk to you. Alone. Perhaps once we get to the Gnawed Noble.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia chewed on the inside of her cheek, weighing so many variations of a reply. “So be it,” she finally replied, not unkindly but without much emotion at all. It was easier to pretend he hadn’t hurt her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cold nights in her tent had spoken loudly enough, however.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded at her but instead of walking away, kept in step with her. She ached to say something, anything, but didn’t desire to be the object of party gossip yet again. Sia focused her gaze on Alistair’s broad back, watching him move easily up the rain slicked road to Denerim. And Zevran didn’t say anything else during the rest of their journey. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once they’d cleared the gates, everyone split into pairs; like they did every time they came here. Sten and Oghren took off for the smithy, Morrigan and Zevran to the markets, and Alistair and Leliana veered right to the tavern. Wynne linked her arm in Sia’s and smiled. “To the Wonders of Thedas then?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia nodded, grinning despite how she felt. But the grin collapsed when she saw Zevran shoot a look back at her. His eyes were sad and her gut twisted. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Andraste’s ashes, Sia loved this shop. The slight hum of enchanted quills scritching over parchment, the emotionless tones of the Tranquil shopkeeps (they should be unsettling but were somehow soothing), the buzz of browsing customers. Even the magical lanterns flickered and popped gleefully, their light bright but lukewarm at best.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lost track of Wynne as soon as they entered the store; she likely wouldn’t find her again for a few hours, at least. Sia was happy to wander, meandering between towering, rickety bookcases as she traced their spines with hesitant, respectful fingers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One book </span>
  <em>
    <span>popped</span>
  </em>
  <span> when she touched it and she looked curiously at it. “Hello there,” Sia said softly, stroking the spine with her index finger. “What secrets do you have for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I would be careful with that one, miss. It tends to take a liking to particular people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia smiled and turned to the Tranquil who had stepped up behind her. “Andraste’s flaming ass,” she said with a gasp as she saw a familiar face. “Beldon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man nodded, his hazy eyes focusing on her for a brief moment before fixing onto the book she’d been admiring. “My name is Beldon. How may I assist you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her mind didn’t want to process it. Her friend was Tranquil. The same man who, as a child, had been the first one to welcome her to the Tower; the same man who, as a teenager, had snuck her treats from the kitchens after his upteenth shift washing dishes for some infraction. It didn’t make sense, none of it did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A futile question for sure, since every Circle Mage knew how Tranquil were made. But that wasn’t what she was truly trying to unravel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the better question.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beldon, how? Why?” She trailed off, her breath coming in hard pants. Anxiety spiraled in her lungs, tightening into a coil that snaked around her heart. “Do you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not understand your inquiry,” he monotoned, blinking at her. “I am one of the shopkeeper’s assistants here at The Wonders of Thedas. I can help you find the items you wish to purchase, and I can check our inventory if you do not see what you seek on the shop floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beldon,” Sia pleaded, touching his arm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck, he doesn’t even register it, does he?</span>
  </em>
  <span> “Beldon, it’s me. It’s Sia.” Her fingers twitched as she reached out to him. “Beldon. You know me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m afraid I do not, serrah,” Beldon said patiently. “But if you need assistance with that book, I can show you to a warded room where you may peruse it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I - no. I’m not interested,” she replied hurriedly, suddenly wanting to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>anywhere</span>
  </em>
  <span> but in front of her former friend. And she certainly didn’t want to vomit all over the shop’s spotless wood floors. Sia took a deep breath and bolted from the stacks, down the stairs, and burst out the front door into the smoky air. Some street vendor was cooking something deep fried and disgusting across the way and she fixed her eyes on that point, willing herself to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beldon. Maker’s breath, what happened?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia raised a shaking hand to her mouth, her stomach turning and twisting into knots. There was an alley just to her left and she dashed down it, heedless of its dark corners away from the guards meandering in a tight circle around the square. Ravens on the roof above squawked as she ran, then took off at the sound of her retching.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stomach emptied and her mouth foul, Sia stood slowly, dimly aware that she managed to not throw up in front of a crowd. She staggered forward until she could put both hands on the wall in front of her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t believe he’s Tranquil. How? Why?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Guilt rose unbidden and heavy. The pull of it made her head ache, her heart pound. She still felt sick, even though there was nothing left in her stomach. Sia spat, trying to rid herself of the taste. Beldon had been a lot of things - impetuous, mischievous, and never one to back down from a challenge. But he’d never come close to a line where you couldn’t pull back, and certainly not for something as permanent and heinous as being made </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tranquil</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That punishment was reserved for those who did blood magic. In her time at the Circle, Sia had only ever known of one mage who’d been made Tranquil. She’d been in the same classes as him, sat near him most days.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No one suspected Thewyn of blood magic. He was just like every other teenager in the Circle - a little bored, a little riled up by hormones, and a little too taken with flights of fancy and crushes that lasted not much longer than a fortnight. He was a few years younger than Sia, Gianna, and Beldon but Beldon had taking a liking to the boy. He was already an adept at elemental magic, Beldon’s field of study, and their professor had urged Beldon to mentor the younger mage.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beldon took to teaching like he did everything else - as though he was born to do it. His easy way with anyone and everyone made him friendships with many, but Sia knew he didn’t share every bit of gossip, ever fear, every concern and triumph with others the way he did with her and Gianna. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go on, then,” she teased as Beldon jumped up as Thewyn entered the library. “Go off to your student and leave us in your dust.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Beldon tossed his chestnut wave of hair and winked. “Oh please. I know Gianna’s DYING to get close to Ellanna again, and you…” He paused, flicked a hand at her. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And he walked away, snatching his satchel as he waved cheerily to his pupil. “How are you today, my young ingenue?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia rolled her eyes but she and Gianna chuckled at how quickly Beldon turned serious when his student was around. “They’ll be no living with him soon,” Gianna muttered, making them both laugh.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sia, I - oh. I didn’t know you had company.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Every hair on the back of Sia’s neck stood up and a shiver snaked, unbidden, down her spine at Cullen’s voice behind her. “Gianna was just leaving,” she said softly, making Gianna waggle her eyebrows. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gianna nodded. “Study group.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen was just out of her eyeline but she could feel his presence like a hand on the small of her back. “Study group?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hmmm yes. Another mage journeyman promised to tutor me in my numbers. I’m just dreadful at them.” Somehow Sia kept a straight face even though Gianna was laying it on thick at this point. “Ellanna’s such a dear, taking me in. Nestling me in the comfort of all those….numbers.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia gave her the smallest headshake, her eyes sparkling. “Ah yes, those numbers I’m sure are just….plush indeed.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Gianna grabbed her books and tossed her a wink. “Have you seen them lately? Truly stupendous.” And she walked off toward the mage dorms.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia thunked her head against the desk, willing her laughter to die before she lifted her head. “Did you need something, Cullen?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I uh - yes. There’s a….a need for another mage. I thought you might be up for the task.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Color me intrigued.” She stood and let Cullen lead her from the library, then into a quiet hallway before asking, “A need for a mage, eh?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Cullen laughed in a self-deprecating way. “I’m a terrible liar.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Actually as far as lies go, that one passes muster. The more detail you give, the more less likely the lie.” She grinned at him. “And you did it without blushing. Good on you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They rounded a corner leading to a dusty stairwell, the space beneath it dark. Which is right where Cullen steered her. With one simple maneuver, he pushed her into the darkness and up against the cold stone wall, his gauntleted fingers tangling in her silk robes. “We’ve been apart too long,” he growled in her ear. “I’ve done nothing but dream of you for a week.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Exams,” she said breathily. “They’re a bitch, and impossible to get around. If my grades slipped, someone might figure it out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know. I know. But….I find myself in need of one particular mage right now, and damn your studies for a few hours.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia tipped her head back, grinning wide. “Show me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hours later, Sia and Cullen were tangled together on the bed in an abandoned dorm on the fifth floor. Only Gianna and Beldon ever knew what the empty book on Sia’s bed meant, left as a sign to her location and roughly how long she’d be gone. That time was quickly winding down and Sia knew she had to get up, even as the heavy, warm weight of Cullen’s body and the feel of his skin on hers begged her to stay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Cullen,” she whispered, smiling down at his dozing form. “I should go.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He flung an arm over her waist and grunted. “I forbid it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She chuckled and gently pulled at his wrist. “I know, I’m sorry. But if we wait too long-“</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sighed and sat up, running his fingers through his hair. “One of these days, we’re going to take all the time we want.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“When you figure out how to do that, let me know.”  She paused, considering. “Though I’ve had a thought about that.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His gaze slipped south, eyeing her naked form with blatant desire. “Oh really?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sia swatted at him, making him laugh. “Don’t even think about it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Why not?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She shook her head. “My thought was that I’ll be eligible for proper placement in a year’s time. The First Enchanter is already talking about sending me to Orlais as an ambassador.” At Cullen’s surprise, she said, “It’s just talk right now but I think I can convince him.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He sat up, letting the blanket pool around his waist. “That would be remarkable. There’s always a call for Templars to go to Orlais. Perhaps we could make a go of it there.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>His words warmed her heart, and for a brief moment, she could picture their life. Together. Restrictions around mages and Templars were said to be looser in Orlais and because she was nobility, she could probably get away with even more. And Orlais always did love an outcast noble, even if it was mostly for the drama that followed in their wake.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She cupped his cheek, letting her fingers delicately trace his jaw. “Hmmm, just imagine -“</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The door to their hideaway slammed open and Beldon staggered in. His hands were covered in blood, and it was splattered over his face and robes. His eyes were wild, his hair snarled into knots. “Thewyn,” he croaked out, sinking to his knees. “Blood magic. Jowan.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Holy Maker,” Cullen said, leaping from the bed, ignoring his nudity. “Sia, help me.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If the Maker was looking down on them during the next half an hour, Sia was eternally grateful. Getting Beldon cleaned up and talking had been difficult enough, but getting the three of them down onto the main floors without attracting attention was even harder. While they went, Beldon told them the story in hushed fits and starts, from the moment Thewyn convinced him to go to the sub basement to look for supplies for a new experiment, to running into Jowan and his Chantry sister lover there, to the three of them trying to rope Beldon into some scheme to get into the phylactery vault. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It went from bad to worse. Somehow, Thewyn and Jowan knew enough blood magic to conjure a minor demon. And in an attempt to set it loose on the magically warded door to the vault, it ripped past them and up the stairs…..</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And right into the apprentice dormitories.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The scene was a brutal, bloody mess, one that Beldon had dove into with his fellow mages, the Templars, and the help of a recently arrived Grey Warden. But one demon beget two, then four, then nearly ten as they tore through the halls, and that’s when Beldon ran for Sia. She’d studied demons and demon lore as part of an approved course but had never fought one. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>And now was as good a time as any to try out what she’d learned. Hands curled into fists, she and Beldon stood back to back with Cullen and two other Templars as a Rage demon burned bright before them, roaring with unleashed anger and fury. Sia typically used a staff but there’d been no time to grab hers, so she was relying on that deep pulse of magic she tried so hard to keep at bay. She had a fine line to ride in the moment, aiding and fighting without giving herself away.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>When the Rage demon was nothing but ash and ember on the ground, she found herself face to face with the First Enchanter and the Grey Warden. The Warden was giving her an approving look, one that threw her off her game for a moment as she was trying to dissipate the thing green wisps of energy coming off her palms. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Not now, Sia. Not now.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“My name is Duncan,” the Warden said as he sheathed his longsword before stepping forward and extending a hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia made her way out of the alley, ignoring the muck on the hem of her robes. She wanted a stiff drink and a decent bed and the only place to get both of those was within her reach, just across the marketplace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She staggered forward, ignoring the calls of the various vendors who saw her fine robes and bright hair. Most of them didn’t even blink at her dismissal, but the human man tending to a stall of fine jewelry decided to follow her, calling out to her. “My lovely! Wait! I have the finest jade and tanzanite earrings that would look marvelous against your complexion.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia rolled her eyes and kept moving, her stride now more determined as her head cleared. The Gnawed Noble tavern was only a few paces away. Then she felt a hand grab her arm. She whirled, gaze fierce on the man who had been harassing her. “Back. Off,” she bit out, her eyes going dark with power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, you don’t scare me little mage,” he said, grinning. He was missing a canine and it had been replaced with gold. A tiny diamond winked at her from the gold setting. “I’ve mages in my family, all proper Circle trained and the like. And you might be one a’ em, or you might be apostate. But no mage wearing robes that fine should go without jewels, and you -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re done.” A hand slammed down on the man’s shoulder and spun him around. “Leave.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia stared at the hard, unmoving expression on Zevran’s face. “Zevran.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave. Now.” He grinned nastily, an ugly thing on such a beautiful face. “Or I find a good use for those teeth.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man nodded and scurried away, never looking back. Zevran waited until he’d scrambled back to his booth before dropping the grin off his face. “Fool,” he spat, then said softly, ‘Are you all right, mi amor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia shrugged his hand away and straightened her robes. “I’m fine. Thank you for stopping him.” She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I was very close to slamming his hand in the door.” At his raised eyebrow, she added, “Totally on accident, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran sputtered a laugh and shook his head. “He would have had it coming, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course.” She eyed the heavy satchel over his shoulder. “Shopping went well?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
  <span>He nodded. “It did.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The silence hung heavy between them. With a grimace, she turned away, biting off several replies as she opened the tavern’s door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sia. Wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shut her eyes for just a moment. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did that sound like...regret in his voice?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She motioned him forward. “Come. Alistair’s got everyone set up with rooms and I don’t want to have this conversation for everyone to eavesdrop on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He followed her like a wraith, almost soundless behind her as they turned out of the common room and down a long hall, flanked by identical doors. Hers was the last on the left and she opened it with the heavy iron key the barkeep had wordlessly handed to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once ensconced in the small but tidy room, Sia turned on him. “So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had the wherewithal to look abashed. “I owe you an apology, mi amor.” He held his hand out and she took it hesitantly, like it might bite her. “I know what we agreed; we’d have our fun and when that was tired out, we’d take our leave of each other. But...I have not tired of you. And I made you think otherwise.” Zevran lifted his head to meet her eyes. “I am so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The emotion in his words made her realize he was very serious, and very apologetic. But it still stung. “Was this about Zathrian?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a conflict that warred on his face for a long second before he sat on the edge of the bed and gestured for her to do the same. “It was. And it was not. Zathrian was a moment, an opportunity. One that I do not regret taking, for he very nearly killed us. But it was an ugly moment. One I wish you hadn’t seen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Understanding rocked through her, and her suspicions all came to the forefront. “You killed him like you would a mark. A contract.” At his hesitant nod, she charged forward, her words spilling over each other. “And you hadn’t killed like that since...well, since you tried to kill me. Since you left the Crows.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran let out a long, pained sigh. “A part of me I never wanted you to see. I was, and still am, determined to be a different man. I kill for you, and the rest. I am meant to protect you, not let you see such ugly things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed, the sound hollow. “Zevran, I’m a Grey Warden. Everything I do is ugly. Demons, darkspawn, lyrium-addled dwarves who try to slaughter us. It’s all on a path to the biggest ugly thing out there, the Archdemon.” Sia swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to just hide and forget this all ever happened. To go back to him holding her. “Zevran, I want you. It’s really quite simple. But if you don’t harbor those desires anymore….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He struck fast, like a snake out from the crevice of a boulder. Zevran kissed her but it was all too brief. “I am not a Crow,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to look at her. “I was a Crow. And they have already sent someone for me, for the next time we wander into an alley here.” He glanced at his satchel on the floor. “That’s what I was doing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Reconnaissance?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That, and a bit of shopping.” He grinned, all teeth and cunning. “But they will come for me, make no mistake.” Zevran pushed the hair out of her face. “I know you may not forgive me yet, but I hope, in time, you can. I do not want to lose you.” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> That night </em>
</p><p>In other, safer, <em> saner </em> times, the Gnawed Noble tavern would be a perfectly respectable place to stay. A few bandits here, a few merchants there, and everyone drunk off their asses and having a good time. But weeks out from the Landsmeet, the air was thick with tension and the laughter canted toward desperate. </p><p>Denerim was a powder keg awaiting a match.</p><p>Their little party weren’t the only guests of the house. Scattered amongst the knife-scarred tables and low slung, tatty couches were a handful of minor nobles, their finery flashy but ill-fitting, their postures erect. Sia knew that look on their faces well - the desire to be recognized, catered to. All because they had a bit of money and a few parcels of land.</p><p>Well, if they desired attention, she was going to give it to them. She and Alistair needed their support and if that meant swallowing her pride, then so be it. The Blight was bigger than all of them, and if their petty squabbles -</p><p>Movement drew her gaze from across the tavern common room. Two human men squared off in front of each other, and their brusque movements and shouting drawing a small crowd. And conveniently the City Guard were nowhere in sight.</p><p>“Seriously?” Alistair said in her ear. “Don’t they have anything better to do than get into a fist fight?”</p><p>“Apparently not.” Sia glared at the two men.</p><p>“Do we stop them?”</p><p>A flash of steel winked from one of the men’s hands and Sia stood. “Apparently we need to.” She and Alistair approached from flanking positions, him veering right while she stayed to the left. They easily parted the crowd, who were all too happy to see someone intervene so they could continue drinking. (Though there were a few grumbles from townsfolk who had already placed bets on the brewing fight.)</p><p>“All right, chaps, maybe let’s stop and think for a moment,” Alistair said cheerily as he positioned himself in their eyeline. “No need to muss up the floors, they just waxed them.”</p><p>The shorter of the two men, his cap hiding most of his features, whirled on Alistair just as Sia came to her friend’s side. “Yeah well, this lout -“ He froze, mouth gaping open in shock. “Sia?”</p><p>Sia felt her heart stutter for a moment but she schooled her face into a careful, expressionless mask. “Hello, Zayd.” At Alistair’s confused look, she said, “Zayd, Alistair. Alistair, my brother Zayd.”</p><hr/><p>“I can’t believe it! A Grey Warden! You’ve probably scared quite a few knobs with your flashy light shows, huh?” Zayd banged the table with his fist, smiling at her with cheeks reddened by the fire and the whiskey Zevran kept pouring into his glass. <em> Thank you, Zevran, for keeping him drunk and preoccupied </em>, Sia thought. She nodded at Zevran, who smiled gamely back, and dumped another finger of liquor in the man’s cup.</p><p>“Yes, brother, a Grey Warden,” she confirmed as she touched the griffon pin on her lapel. The movement drew Alistair’s eye and he grinned, but it was a wary, fleeting thing. He knew she and her family didn’t speak and hadn’t for years, but the narrow miss weeks earlier outside the Brecilian forest with this very man and his guard made him wonder how bad their relations truly were.</p><p>“Ah, sister, you’ve missed so much,” Zayd slurred as he leaned over the table to peer at her. “But you’re here now! You can help me with a little problem.”</p><p>Sia bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping at him. <em> Yes, brother, I missed so much after Mother and Father sent me off to the Circle after keeping me in the cellar for three days. What a joy. </em> “Does this have to do with the fight we kept you out of?” she asked, her tone forcefully light. Alistair grimaced at the fake levity in her voice, sneaking a hand under the table to gently rest on hers. </p><p>“Ah, just a friendly disagreement,” he said, waving a hand at the man now seated at a table across the way. “Ser Idanta and I have had our spats in the past but I dare say he had too much to drink before he tried to pick a fight with me.” At Sia’s raised eyebrow, he continued. “No, I’m here to help a friend. And represent the Amells in the Landsmeet, of course! We’ve taken over the Bannorn of Caerwent, on top of ruling Dereham. But we’re trying to stretch into White River, but the current Arling won’t relinquish his hold until we help his son out of a bit of legal trouble here in the city.” Zayd shrugged, his wild red curls catching the firelight. Nearby a woman sighed and Zayd grinned back at her with a wink. “So a bit of political maneuvering and handshaking and all should be well.”</p><p>“Maybe for you,” Alistair muttered, making Sia snicker. “And what did this arling’s son do, exactly?”</p><p>Zayd shrugged. “Something about a duel with some wench in the whorehouse. I guess she beat him pretty soundly, he roused the Guard, and then threatened her life. Nonsense, really. I’m sure he didn’t lose, and she was probably threatened by <em> his </em> prowess.”</p><p><em> Ah yes, Zayd and his sometimes thinly veiled, often blatant sexism. Fantastic. </em> </p><p>“This dueling woman? Tall, dark hair, calls herself Captain?” Zevran asked as he sat down with another bottle of whiskey.</p><p>Zayd jerked his head to the right to look at the elf. “Yes! That’s her. How’d you know?”</p><p>Zevran shrugged playfully. “Word gets around.” He put an arm around Zayd’s shoulders and leaned in conspiratorially. “Now, my friend, I’ve a wonder, if I may. Your little arling’s son got himself locked up, yes? So what are you suggesting as a resolution to his predicament?”</p><p>Zayd blew out a breath and Sia saw Zevran wrinkle his nose. “Get the wench to testify that he didn’t do anything wrong and he needs to go free.” He nudged Zevran in the ribs. “I bet you and I could convince her. Two handsome men that we are.”</p><p>Leliana made a choking noise from behind Sia, and Sia had to fight not to laugh.</p><p>“Hmm, that does sound like the kind of challenge right up my alley,” Zevran mused, leaning even close to Zayd. “Perhaps we should find this woman tonight.”</p><p>Zayd’s drunken stare locked on Zevran’s mouth. “I uh….yeah. Sure.”</p><p>“And she is where?”</p><p>“Where I’m staying. A whorehouse called The Pearl.”</p><p>Zevran pulled back so fast he made Zayd bob in his seat. “Very good. To The Pearl, then.”</p><p>Sia knew he was crafting some plan and was curious enough to want to tag along. She shrugged. “To The Pearl. So be it.”</p><hr/><p>“We’re sure this is a good idea?”</p><p>“Oh absolutely not. But I know my brother, even after all these years. He’s not changed a bit.”</p><p>Alistair eyed the man’s back. “He’s older than you.”</p><p>“Hmm yes, by a decade. He was 18 when I was hauled away, and already a pain in the ass. Egotistical, snobbish, and constantly wooing and leaving the maids in fits.” She shrugged. “Like I said, he’s not changed a bit. But I also know we can convince him to stand with the Wardens.</p><p>“And how do we do that?”</p><p>Sia grinned. “Any ideas?”</p><p>Alistair chuckled. “He doesn’t strike me as the chaste type.” He blinked as Zayd’s hand snaked down Zevran’s back. “At all.” </p><p>At that, Sia handed him a single piece of parchment that had been folded over twice. </p><p>
  <em> Mi amor - </em>
</p><p>
  <em> When I straighten the hood on your robe, keep your brother busy while I have a look around his rooms. I suspect we’ll find something useful within to use against him. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> And pay no attention to my flirting with him. He is not the Amell to whom I am loyal.  </em>
</p><p>Alistair sighed. “It’s going to be a long night.”</p><p>The Pearl was on the far southern side of the city, and they stayed out of the alleyways for silent fear they’d run into the Crows at any moment. The last thing Sia wanted to do was protect her half-wit brother while fighting for Zevran’s freedom. Plus she doubted the Crows would want a large audience to their assassination attempt. </p><p>As Sia, Alistair, Zevran, Leliana, and their charge neared the ramshackle set of buildings with the squeaking wooden sign out front, Zayd turned to Sia. “So, dear sister. We’re walking into a brothel. Together.” He grinned. “What would Mother and Father say?”</p><p>Sia stared at him. “What makes you think that’s an appropriate question?” </p><p>Zayd’s grinned dropped, then turned into a scowl when Zevran barked out a laugh. “I’m simply trying to have a conversation, sister.”</p><p>She crossed her arms in front of her. “No, you’re trying to stir a pot that’s been stagnant for over a decade. I’m not interested.” She leaned in close to him, but kept her voice loud enough for all to hear. “We do this, and you back the Grey Wardens at the Landsmeet.”</p><p>Zayd raised a perfect eyebrow at her. “And if I don’t?”</p><p>Taking in a deep breath, Sia let her power flash over her. Green tendrils of energy swirled, gathering into a tiny tempest that sat in the palm of her hand. “Do you really want to betray a Grey Warden, a Circle mage, and your sister all in one go?” She nodded at Zevran, who opened the door to the brothel. “Shall we?”</p><p>Sia, then Alistair, then the rest of the party save Zevran brushed by the wide-eyed man. Zayd didn’t move until Zevran nudged him with a sharp elbow. “Ahem, right. Saving the arling’s son from more embarrassment,” he muttered, straightening his coat. He snapped a look to Zevran, who was still grinning. “Is that who she is? Truly?”</p><p>Fingering a dagger at his side, like toying with a helpless bird on the ground, Zevran’s grin grew toothy and jagged. “You don’t know the half of it, my friend.”</p><p>Despite the outer appearance, The Pearl was actually quite nice inside. Plush rugs, velvet chairs and sofas, and fine wood tables littered the main floor. A handful of patrons chatted with beautiful, lithe creatures who tossed their heads and laughed, and then kept pouring wine and spirits. Sia was assaulted by the myriad of rich jewel tones; deep reds, blues, greens, and purples gave the entire place a rich, decadent feeling.</p><p>And the wares on display were certainly easy on the eyes, and it wasn’t just because they were finely dressed and showing more skin than what would be deemed appropriate on the streets of Denerim. </p><p>“Oh my,” Leliana said as a stunning young human man with jet black hair and bright blue eyes winked at her. “Why didn’t we come here before?”</p><p>“Bit busy trying to avoid the bandits and Crows,” Sia murmured as they followed Zayd to a darker corner far off the main floor. The corner booths here were curtained, lending some sort of privacy to prying eyes. And sitting at one of the booths was a curvaceous woman with a ridiculous hat. She toyed with the stem of her wineglass, her brown eyes taking them in as they approached.</p><p>“Ah, Zayd. Back again so soon?” She leaned forward, peering at them. “Zevran? Maker’s ballsack, I haven’t seen you in an age.” The woman stood and swept toward them, her arms open wide.</p><p>Zevran pushed the man out of the way and stepped into the hug the woman offered. “Isabela, my pet. As soon as I learned Zayd knew you, I had to tag along.”</p><p>Isabela chucked him under the chin with a wide smile. “You never could resist.”</p><p>Zevran turned toward Sia, his hand out in invitation. “Mi armor, come here. Meet Captain Isabela, the most feared pirate queen this side of Thedas.”</p><p>She tutted at him. “In all of Thedas, you mean.”</p><p>Zevran waved a playful hand at her. “Yes yes.” He drew Sia to him, nestling her against his side. “Sia, Isabela. Isabela, Sia.” He lowered his voice. “A Grey Warden.”</p><p>Isabela gave Sia an approving look, and the suggestion in it warmed Sia’s blood. “Hmmm, Grey Warden. Are the tales of Warden stamina true then?”</p><p>Despite herself, Sia grinned, biting her bottom lip before replying. “Perhaps,” and making Zevran laugh loudly.</p><p>A loud cough from behind them made the three turn, and they saw Alistair with his fingers curled into Zayd’s collar. Zayd looked desperate to get away and Alistair held him in place with a grim smile. “It seems our friend here was trying to sneak away.”</p><p>Isabela broke from Zevran and Sia with a sigh. “What a <em> shame </em> that would be,” she purred, her hand flicking to her belt. She pulled a dagger out, a pretty little bejeweled thing with a wickedly sharp edge. With one swift motion, it flipped over in her hand and she used the hilt to tip Zayd’s chin up. “Now, I know you’re here on behalf of that little pugnosed shit of an arling’s son and darling I must tell you….he’s not worth it.” She grinned at him, leaning in to say, “No matter what he may have promised you.”</p><p>Zayd’s panicked eyes set on Sia. “Are you just going to stand there?” He asked in a higher than normal voice. “She could gut me right here!”</p><p>“But she won’t. They’d never let me back in the place and I like it here,” Isabela said with a laugh as she stepped back to her booth. “But go on, have your little family row here.”</p><p>“You chose your actions,” Sia said as she leaned into Zevran’s comforting weight. They may not have settled the issues between them, but right now she was taking comfort in him and the smell of leather and slightly smoky skin. “You chose to use your time and influence here to support who I assume is a bit of a shit.” At Isabela’s slight nod, Sia continued. “It’s shameful.”</p><p>Zayd sputtered, his face now a mask of anger and indignation. “What do you know? What do you know our family, <em> sister </em>?” he spat. “You are the stain on our name, not me, nor anyone else. You’re lucky you got to keep that.” And he pointed at the family ring on her hand.</p><p>Sia contemplated her answer for a few seconds, and just as she opened her mouth, she felt a tug on her hood. She saw Zevran make a circle in the air with his finger, a gesture for show, as Alistair and Leliana knew where he was headed instead of the bar. She squared her shoulders and turned the full weight of her angry gaze on her brother. <em> At least I won’t have to fake this. </em> “They’d have to pry it off my cold corpse,” she spat back, stepping toward him. “I’m as much an Amell as you are. Moreso from the looks of you.” </p><p>Zayd bristled. She’d struck a nerve. “What the fuck does that mean?”</p><p>Sia took another step forward, letting Leliana circle her so she could be supported where Zevran had left a gap. “I did a little digging while at the Circle, brother. Turns out the last mage in our family was a First Enchanter to Orlais.” At the blatant shock on Zayd’s face, she continued, lowering her voice. “I know what Mother and Father told you, told me. No one in the Amell line ever had a lick of magic. But it has to come from <em> somewhere </em> . It doesn’t just appear out of thin air, like a ghost. Her name was Inez Amell, and hundreds years ago she helped rule Orlais beside Empress Jeaneve Drakon the First. This was before the Circle towers, before the Chantry’s iron fist dealings with mages.” Sia was breathing her hard, her heart thudding in her ears, her anger and hurt spiraling out from the pit in her stomach. “So as much as Mother and Father wanted to erase me, they can’t. Inez Amell was royalty, and the next mage in our line <em> that we know of </em> is a Grey Warden. I serve Ferelden, and Thedas, and I’m going to do everything in my power to defeat that fucking Archdemon.”</p><p>And she yanked off her family ring and dropped it in his slack hand. “I don’t need this to remind me who I am.”</p><p>Zayd stared at the ring in his palm, still warm from her own hand. He looked abashed, his mouth downturned but not a harsh line of anger. The spark of fury in his eyes had gone out. And he was slouched forward, like his own guilt was trying to pull him to the worn, weathered floorboards. But instead of him speaking, it was Alistair. “You may not know her, but I do. She’s brave, and honest, and wants to end the Blight. Have her back, because if you don’t, this could very well end in our demise.” He gave the smaller man a hard stare. “Not just mine and Sia’s. Everyone’s. This isn’t just some political game, and you’re not on your family estate rolling around with serving girls in the barn. This is life or death, a return to our way of life or utter destruction.”</p><p>Zayd was quiet for a long moment, his gaze flicking back and forth between a slowly simmering Sia and a stalwart Alistair. He swallowed loudly, his throat clicking with the effort. “If I don’t back Loghain, Mother and Father will cut me off. They’ll expel me, like they did Sia. But I won’t have anywhere to go.” He glanced at his sister. “Not like you did.”</p><p>By all the gods, she wanted to spit in his face. <em> Where did I go? The Circle Tower? A freezing cold prison that did its best to break me? That, even when I found little pleasures and distractions, ripped them from me? Likely the same place, the same people, who made Beldon Tranquil? Who broke Cullen and likely packed him off to some far flung ass-end of Thedas because of what he suffered? Not a home, you selfish bastard. An iron and stone cage. </em></p><p>“Ah, I don’t know about what they might do to you if you do not back Loghain,” Zevran said, his boots making no noise as he approached, a small leather journal in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the others. “But I do know they will likely not be forgiving if they find out about the funds you’ve been skimming for….my calculations say at least five years. And that’s only what’s accounted for here.” He tsked playfully at Zayd. “A bit of coin here, a few gems there. Not enough to be noticed all at once for sure. But to keep such detailed accounts of it? Sloppy. Though I suppose you had to, to cover your own ass should your creditors decide you aren’t as honorable as you proclaim.”</p><p>Zayd watched helplessly as Zevran waved the stack of papers in his face. “I see names here I think I recognize.” He held up one paper for them to see. “Hmm, ah yes. Bann Sighard of Dragon’s Peak, I believe. Seems you owe his youngest son several hundred gold.” He dramatically shuffled the papers. “And Bann Alfstanna of Waking Sea paid you in several pricey Nevarran antiques to secure a trade route for her which it seems you have not delivered on.” </p><p>Leliana took the papers from Zevran, tucking them into her satchel. “I wonder what they would give to have you delivered on their doorsteps,” she said lightly. “Enough to secure their backing in the Landsmeet, at least.”</p><p>Zayd tensed, his jaw going rigid. “What do you want? I can’t get Sia back into family good graces -“</p><p>“Exactly what we were willing to bargain for earlier,” Alistair answered. He gave the other man a little shake to emphasize his words. “But now, I think we’ll keep your little stack of secrets and you’ll spend the next week getting the nobles on our side. Use that charm for good, for once. Instead of ripping people off.”</p><p>All Zayd could do was nod before stammering, “Is this your wish, sister?”</p><p>Sia nodded once. “It’s <em> our </em> wish to defeat the Blight. You can help us do that.” </p><hr/><p>Sia motioned for the bottle by Isabela’s elbow. “Again.”</p><p>“My, my. Thirsty are we?”</p><p>Sia’s gaze slid down Isabela’s face, resting on her ample bosom for a long moment, making the other woman chuckle. “You have no idea.”</p><p>Isabela threw her head back and laughed, delighted. “Oh you are such a tease!” She touched Zevran’s jaw with her finger. “And since this one likes you, I do too.” Her clever eyes tracked the way Leliana was leaning into Sia’s side. “I like you both, rather.” And then she winked at Alistair. “Four’s a party, but five is….well, to be a honest, a feat I’ve never accomplished.”</p><p>Already red in the face from a few ales and the cloying attentions of several of the women in The Pearl, Alistair flushed crimson. “I uh….”</p><p>Sia couldn’t help but grin at Zevran and Leliana as Isabela sauntered over to Alistair’s side of the large booth they were all squashed into. “We would have so much fun,” she purred in his ear, her breasts nearly hitting him in the face. “I’ve got enough room on my ship for a party and several cozy little nooks that have yet to be broken in.” Her eyes flicked downwards. “Speaking of not broken in….”</p><p>Alistair swallowed hard. “Uh I mean….Maker’s breath.”</p><p>“To be practical, Alistair, you could always just come along with us and stay on the ship for a night. It has to be better than walking back to the Gnawed Noble at this hour,” Leliana said soothingly as she reached across the table to pat his hand. “And if you change your mind while on the ship, I’m sure there’d be room.”</p><p>“Always room at Isabela’s inn, especially for such strapping young men. Warden to boot,” Isabela said cheerily as she tapped him on the chin. “Come on, then.”</p><p>“This is going to be a disaster,” Sia whispered to Zevran as they followed the others.</p><p>He cackled. “Oh, when Isabela is involved, it’s always a very fun disaster, though.” He quickly sobered at her thoughtful expression. “But I want to make sure we are okay, mi amor. I know we haven’t settled everything, and I am truly sorry for how I acted -“</p><p>He let out a surprised “Mmmph!” as Sia grabbed his chin and pulled him into a kiss. “We are good,” she said against his lips. “And you introduced me to Isabela.”</p><p>He pulled back, grinning. “Ah, so that added to the apology then?”</p><p>“Andraste’s flaming ass, <em> yes </em>,” she hissed, nipping at his lips. “That woman has the most amazing breasts I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>Zevran’s laugh echoed around them as they neared the docks.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Yes it’s been a minute since this was updated, but now that my TTRPG charity group’s last charity stream for 2020 is done, we move on to more story!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Isabela’s captain’s quarters were sumptuous decadence; a velvet, gold, and glistening delight of pillows, fabrics, dark wood, and the spicy scents of incense and whiskey. Sia felt as though she’d been wrapped in a luscious daydream, enveloped in twilight and spice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaned back on a fur-lined bench and sighed contentedly as she swirled the wine in her glass. Sia was already warm from the whiskey they’d drank at The Pearl but here, ensconced in the smoky low light and squished between Leliana and Alistair, she was more than just warm. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liquid</span>
  </em>
  <span> was probably a better word for it.  And it didn’t even matter that Alistair was fidgeting or Leliana’s fingers were dancing over her knee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching Zevran and Isabela dance in front of them was one of the most sensual things she’d ever witnessed. Fluid grace, as though neither one owned a spine, was on display as they twirled and dipped. Sia was entranced, enraptured. And if her face was flushed, no one cared.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re uh, very pretty,” Alistair said softly as he watched the pair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So pretty,” Leliana replied dreamily, setting her chin in her hand and canting her head to watch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia slid her gaze over to her fellow Warden. “I’m glad you came.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair was silent for a long moment. “I am, too,” he admitted. “It’s like the entire world is watching to see what we do and in reality we spend all day walking and fighting and either boiling in our armor or freezing our asses off. This is….it’s nice. Quiet. I can hear the waves even up here.” He leaned back, his muscles relaxing as he hit a particularly soft pillow. Sia could see the relief in his face. “If I sit here too much longer I’m going to fall asleep.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll get you a bunk,” Isabela called out, grinning cheekily. “Unless you want to join me in mine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The expected flush and stammering didn’t come. He gave Isabela a calculating look. “I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran huffed a laugh and with one quick flick of his wrist, spun Isabela out. She twirled once, twice, three times and stopped to face them. “I never joke about ships, alcohol, or booty….either kind,” she replied breathlessly, leaning down to put her hands on the table. Her ample breasts were coated with a slight sheen of sweat and they swung into Alistair’s view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t look away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Isabela held out a hand to him, her fingers calloused and rough and covered in leather half-gloves that protected her knuckles and wrists when she was busy jabbing a dagger into a man’s ribs. Alistair stood, nodded once at the rest of the group, and let Isabela lead him away with a quiet, “That’s a good lad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they’d disappeared into the depths of the ship and were (hopefully) well out of earshot, Leliana said, “I admit, I’m surprised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Sia said, a grin sliding over her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I...am and am not. So I do not know what to think,” Zevran replied. “But I do know he won’t walk straight for at least a day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them fell in a heap of limbs and laughter, which quickly dissolved into heated skin and lingering caresses.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia awoke several hours later, safely ensconced between her lovers’ sleep-warmed bodies. She stared at her bag near the foot of the bed, its strap tangled in Zevran’s pants. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or was that Zevran’s pants tangled in its strap?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She had hoped that the distraction of their kisses would help with the tingling under her skin. It was an itch she couldn’t reach, much less scratch, and it seemed to get worse bit by bit. Most days she could ignore it; the strain of traveling dulled it, and fighting obliterated it temporarily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But in the quiet, in the dark, the thrum of magic resonated. Even the hand on her hip and the soft exhalations against her neck couldn’t pull her focus away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia carefully extricated herself from Zevran and Leliana and slipped toward the end of the bed, fingers reaching for her bag. The room was dark but she knew the bags straps and buckles like the back of her own hand. And after only a moment of fumbling, Sia wrapped her hand around the frayed silk handkerchief covering the foci Morrigan have given her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Once she had settled back down on the bed, Sia held the veridium hunk up level with her eyes. She stared hard at its ridges and nicks in the sparkling green surface. And she breathed deeply, letting her eyes unfocus, then drift closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Connecting with the Fade was usually only possible through dreams. The first time she’d dreamt like that, it had been a horrifyingly memorable experience. She’d been six years old, tiny and scared at the buzzing she’d felt in her bones; but at night, her dreams became vivid hallucinations of fields choked in green haze. Specters haunted the edges, amalgamations of fears and hopes framed with razors. They stalked toward her but never came close enough to be seen outside the haze. Young Sia grew so terrified of falling asleep when she finally succumbed, she slept for four days straight. Her parents knew she wasn’t ill, despite the healers slathering the child’s body in paste and tinctures and forcing strange berries into her slack mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she awoke, Sia realized the buzzing was gone. But it didn’t stay away for long.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And now she was actively trying to connect with her Fade magics and gather up all their unravelings and frayed edges. Morrigan had taught her much, but now Sia was on her own. Morrigan had said, “Do not try to connect to the Fade when you are tired or stressed. Mental clarity is key.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These days clarity was scarce. But this was as close as she could get, muscles loose from sleep and sex, warm from the fire and drink and the fur draped over her shoulders. She felt the veridium vibrate, and she hummed in response. Concordance between her and the foci built slowly over unknowable minutes; no agonizing slowness here, like in the past. There was something akin to a warm familiarity, instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The tingling in her fingertips was the warning sign. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Time to stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thought as she opened her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or tried to.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That warm familiarity tightened spectral tendrils on her hands, holding them in place on the foci. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You show promise, child. You step into the Fade willingly, a feat most never consider. But you open yourself to it. I wonder why?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure my foci has never spoken before,” Sia replied between gritted teeth. “And I’m not really in the mood for a conversation.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The strange voice was silent for several long moments, but Sia dared not break the connection. Anything to do with the Fade deserved patience and abundant caution. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am nothing more than a curious observer. </span>
  </em>
  <span>An image flashed in her mind - a shrouded figure on a hill apologizing for future events. It never happened outside a dream, but it was real enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>So you do remember</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the voice continued. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good. I will leave you to your studies. Though if I may make a suggestion…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not as though I can stop you. You’re the one trespassing,” Sia muttered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I am indeed. And I apologize for it. It is intrusive and I’m sure rather uncomfortable. Ah, but my advice. Your foci doesn’t have enough energy to keep up with your magics. Trade it in for something older.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m to trust what the mysterious voice in my head says?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Trade it in for something Elvhen. Your Wilds witch should be able to help you locate something in the Brecilian forest. </span>
  </em>
  <span> Sia felt a phantom hand tip up her chin, as if to get a better look at her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Archdemon fight is not the most difficult thing you will face. I wish you luck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia deepend her breathing as the voice, and its influence, faded away. She could feel the nausea churning in her gut. It was a violation of her connection to the Fade, and she worried that it was some demon, some Temptation, come to lure her down lost paths In-Between. She counted out the seconds, passing the minutes slowly and with mindfulness. Afraid to stand or even open her eyes quite yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she finally slipped back into bed behind Zevran’s back, sleep eluded her. She grounded herself in the feel of his skin under palm, in the even breaths of the woman on the other side of the bed. Her thoughts weighed too heavily for rest, but at least she had them close.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>“The forest? It is full of unexplored history, that is true. But taking the advice of something from the Fade is dangerous.” Morrigan eyed Sia’s drawn face over her cup of steaming tea. “And you got no sense of this entity’s identity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. It wasn’t a demon -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That you know of.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia had to acquiesce Morrigan’s point. “That I know of. But it didn’t feel malevolent. It felt….curious. Like I was a bug trapped under a glass, being observed by something far bigger than me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan hummed in thought. “An uncomfortable notion. And it only reiterates my point. That forest is ancient, and the things that linger there will see us as prey, not predator. With the werewolves gone, the spirits of that place will return to their nooks.” She sighed, turning her eyes skyward in thought, tracking some distant constellation. “If we are to go back there, allow me the time to prepare some protections.” When Sia nodded, Morrigan immediately reached for a book on the top of a nearby pile. “I’ll start tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me know what you need,” Sia replied as she stood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Actually, I’ve a question if I may.” Once Sia had sat again, Morrigan handed her a bottle of wine. “After this Archdemon is slain, what will you do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia took a sip from the bottle, staring at the dark haired woman over it. “I don’t honestly know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t know, or you don’t dare to plan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A little of both,” Sia admitted freely. “The Tower held me back, and now the Archdemon stands in my way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of?” Morrigan prompted, her eyes dancing with curiosity. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of everything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of you...and Zevran? Leliana?” Morrigan smiled, a wicked twist to her lips. “Perhaps both?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia slumped against the log she had been sitting on previously. “Andraste’s supple tits that sounds amazing. Just hole up in some little cabin on the beach or in the forest, the three of us keeping each other warm.” She sighed. “I’d never leave. Just spend my days training, drinking, fucking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that, Morrigan barked out a laugh. “And I have been proven correct - that yet again, even the more curious, complicated, beguiling of people have the same needs as the rest of us.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Sia grin. “Beguiling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan pressed a hand to her chest. “As a fellow beguiling woman, I know of what I speak.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their laughter commingled over the fire and danced on the night air.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“This forest smells like death.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran craned his head to look at Sten, blinking against the canopy-fractured afternoon sun. “Hmmm, do you think so? I detect a base layer of dirt and wood, with hints of moss, dried leaves…” He trailed off. “Ah, and yes. Rot. So indeed, my rather large friend. Death it is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You talk too much, elf,” Sten said, but his words carried no heat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have been told that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And yet you did not listen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran grinned. “And I am not about to start now, am I?” He stared into the forest for several long moments before pointing. “It is that way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I believe he is correct,” Morrigan said as she brushed off her traveling cloak. When Zevran bowed his head, Morrigan clucked at him. “Don’t let it swell your ego, Crow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tossed his hands up in mock retreat. “Elf, Crow. Such names.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are they not accurate?” Sten asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never argued they were not,” Zevran retorted, grin growing wider.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you prefer something different, perhaps?” Morrigan grinned wickedly. “Charlatan.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Witch,” he shot back, face blank but tone laughing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Slattern.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia finished repacking her bag as her three companions chattered. This was one of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>odder</span>
  </em>
  <span> groups she’d ventured out with, but it was good to mix up the company. Typically keeping only one mage visible on outings was the smart play, but since they were back in the Brecilian Forest and were welcome with open arms to the Dalish camp, Sia didn’t worry about it. Plus she needed Morrigan’s expertise with Elvhen artifacts and language.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The forest will not like giving up its secrets</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Lanaya, the clan’s new Keeper, had told them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>There are places in that forest where we dare not venture. If you hope to survive, take care you do not leave evidence of your trespass.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which Morrigan had prepared for. It was eerie how prepared Morrigan was at all times, as if she could prognosticate just a little bit of the future for her own purposes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It would be much more convenient if she could look ahead and tell us how we kill the Archdemon. Or….if we kill the Archdemon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sia thought bitterly as they trekked on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now no longer bound by the spirit of the forest to protect the werewolves, the trees felt more welcoming. But in the distance, Sia could see black-trunked trees, hear their naked branches rattling and rubbing together. Evidence of the curse on part of the forest, a warning sign for which Lanaya had told them to be on the lookout. “Looks like we’re going the right way,” she said softly to Morrigan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed.” Above, a squirrel hopped along a spindly branch with an acorn in its mouth. As it approached the demarcation between the live and dead parts of the forest, it stopped abruptly, as if hitting an invisible wall. The creature stood on its hind legs, sniffed the air, and made a noise like someone had stepped on its tail. Then it ran back the way it had come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clearly the squirrel is smarter than we are,” Sten said as he hefted his axe over the other shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of that I have no doubt,” Zevran replied. “All he has to worry about is finding food for the cold months and spawning more of his line. What a life.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Conversation died down as they approached the line between living and dead forest. At the edge, Morrigan halted the party so she could drag out crystals, feathers, and odd bits and bobs that meant nothing to the others. There was a haze to the air in this spot, like summer heat rising off cobblestones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia backed up to give Morrigan some space, and to keep an eye on the treeline. “I don’t like how quiet it is,” she said softly, dragging the end of her staff through a pile of wet leaves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flicker of movement, something rushing past distant trees, caught her eye. Zevran’s too, the way he jumped to his feet from a crouch. Sia pointed out the movement as it flashed again. “Problem?” Morrigan said over the humming of a crystal in her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Zevran replied before stalking forward on silent feet. Sten moved to the right, taking up a flanking position with the assassin, shockingly quiet for such a large man. Sia moved closer to Morrigan, one eye on her companions stealth into the treeline.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nearly there,” Morrigan said under her breath. She ran a hand through the air and Sia felt something shake inside her. Some….unseen, unnamed force rattled her teeth. Without reason, without proof, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. As easily as she knew the force that pulled on her, yanking an invisible chain tethered deep inside her. Green hazed in her vision, and she shook her head to clear it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s Elvhen,” she whispered as she held out her hand to touch Morrigan’s. “Old Fade magic. For protection.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But with the elves gone from here, it is residual.” Morrigan chuckled and shook her head. “I see caution wins the day once more.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shout behind them, followed by the sound of Sten roaring and metal clashing against metal, made both mages whirl. They ran toward Zevran’s delighted laughter and Sten’s battlecry. The chitter of fangs and the click of chitinous legs warned what was up ahead. And while they had seen any number of horrifying creatures, giant spiders should have been mundane. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But these ones spat acid and brought their matriarch to the fight. Slaughtering her children only enraged the monstrous spider, and she bared down on them in anger and pain.  Her shrieks filled the woods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when she was finally dead and they stood over her mangled, hacksawed corpse, Morrigan pointed to the line separating the live and dead trees. “A guardian,” she said as the haze dispersed. “A very old one. She was meant to protect this place.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>snick </span>
  </em>
  <span>of Zevran’s daggers back into their sheaths made Sia flinch. “I don’t know if the forest will forgive us,” she replied, warily eyeing their surroundings. She felt sad, and yet they’d had no choice. Or had they leapt to a conclusion without trying to find another solution? It felt like all they’d done of late was respond with violent ferocity and blood-splattered blades.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trek through the dead part of the forest was done in silence. A pall hung over the group as they followed Morrigan and her magic. When they stopped on the edge of a small lake, twilight bleeding into the grey sky, Morrigan gestured to the hill rise to the west. “It’s an old pyre,” she said softly, finger tracing the shadow of the rickety structure in the distance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran nodded. His normally boisterous voice was quiet. Reverent. “The ancient elves who called this place home returned their bodies to the earth and sky. When they died, they were burned with herbs and flowers, and then the ashes were buried at the foot of a tree. And sometimes they were buried with objects, meaningful trinkets they could carry with them to the next life.” He rubbed his hands together against the chill. “Or so it’s been written. So I suppose we are digging?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I suppose we are,” Sia said, but her tone was hesitant. “But it feels wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan bristled at that. “We did not come all this way to be deterred by the ashes of those long gone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What about an alternative? You seem to hesitate. Why make the hard choice, the destructive one, when there is another way?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia gripped her staff tighter as she shot Sten a look. His brows furrowed in concern and he began to walk toward her, but she waved him off. “I’m assuming none of you heard that,” she said, cutting Morrigan off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Morrigan raised a dark eyebrow in confusion - and concern. “We did not. Are you hearing voices on the wind, perhaps? The ancient trees-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia cut her companion off with a slash of her hand. “That voice…” She wandered out a few feet, drawn to the water. “I know it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I should hope so, child. You stand on the edge of something...exhilarating. Aren’t you excited?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’m pissed,” Sia said, lashing out at the burgeoning shadows. “Fucking invasive piece of shit!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice echoed, carried on the wind and rattling the bare branches overhead. “Sia,” Zevran said gently, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It is late. Perhaps we should make camp.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Sia didn’t see him. She saw </span>
  <em>
    <span>the other</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a shrouded figure standing not five feet away. </span>
  <em>
    <span> Ah, still so young. You lash out with hooked fingers and bared teeth, barking at the wind when it blows. But you have such potential…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia felt her magic flare deep in her chest. But she hadn’t summoned it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They did</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she realized, a bolt of fear sending her adrenaline spiking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t see them?” She asked, half-whispering. Zevran followed her gaze to the bank of the river. He peered into the swiftly descending twilight but saw nothing out of the ordinary. When he shook his head, Sia whirled on Morrigan. “So I’m losing my mind.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hardly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the figure scoffed as it walked slowly to her.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>You are at the edge of potential, but your fear holds you back. Take this as a gift - and a suggestion.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I cannot wait to see what you do.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With her next step, Sia stubbed her toe on something hard. The sound made her companions look at her questioningly, but before she could pick it up, Morrigan swooped in. “Odd,” she said, holding aloft a palm-sized orb. She looked to Zevran. “You just stepped there moments ago.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia held out her hand, proud that it wasn’t shaking, and Morrigan handed over the orb. She looked it over, felt its smooth glass exterior, and watched as a tiny green light winked at her from inside the orb’s depths. “Another mystery,” she muttered.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>They made it back to the Dalish camp after midnight, giving the guards a good scare before splitting up to their own tents. Zevran made move to go to his tent, but Sia stopped him with a look. “Mi amor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She crooked a finger at him, then pointed at the massive Mabari paw sticking out from underneath his tent’s flap. “I think I need to change his name to Thief,” she joked, forcing a bit of levity into her voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What a brazen animal! Stealing my tent!” Zevran said, raising his voice to be sure Courage would hear him. When he got a soft </span>
  <em>
    <span>woof</span>
  </em>
  <span> in response, Zevran had to laugh. “Could I beg some space in your tent, mi amor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you’d never ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran carefully stripped them out of their spider-gut stained clothes, his eyes hot on her. Once he had pulled her close, fingers sliding under her breast band, he dared to ask. “What happened out there? You were acting strangely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia sighed. “It’s hard to explain. Especially when you keep running your fingers over my spine like that. I might melt into a puddle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran clucked at her. “And I will happily provide distraction….once you tell me what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cast a glance over at her knapsack, now home to the glass orb from the forest. “It’s very strange. And a burden you shouldn’t carry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He cupped her jaw, his eyes boring in hers. “We all carry each others’ burdens, Sia. But right now, I am only concerned with yours.” He traced the edge of her mouth with his thumb, making her shiver. “You know of my flight from the Crows and my past. You told me about Cullen and your life in the Circle. We have exchanged heavy, personal burdens and now they exist in us, together. Let me help you carry this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So she told him everything - the dreams, the intrusive strange figure, even her worries about her magic. And when she was done, Sia felt empty. Drained. She sagged against Zevran, grounding herself in how his fingers skimmed her ribs, how his skin felt under her heated palms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sia,” he purred in her ear as she tugged his breeches low on his hips. “As much as I love your enthusiasm and I fully intend on taking advantage of it, I think you haven’t processed everything that has happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t,” she admitted. “And honestly, right now, I don’t want to. I want to wait for the light of morning to give me another chance, another day to fix things. To make things work. To keep fighting. Because like it or not, this is my path for the time being.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Back in Denerim, four days before the Landsmeet</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Have you come to a decision, Alistair?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Eamon, how can you….how can you ask me this? Now? In the middle of a Blight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a long sigh, and then Eamon replies. “Alistair, we need a ruler. And in the aftermath of the Blight, we will need a strong leader to help rebuild, to give people a reason to stay.” His voice lowers. “The Free Marches, Nevarra, Antiva, Rivain, Orlais. They all seek to profit off our suffering.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They should be worried about the Blight!” Alistair’s voice is louder than he meant it to be, but he felt rage - and helplessness - boil up in his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They should. And to their credit, some are. We’ve received reinforcements from most of them. But that is now, and we need to look to the future.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was Alistair’s turn to sigh. “I’m a royal bastard. A Warden. I’m…” He hesitated. “I’m tainted. No royal line from me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not about lineage, Alistair. It’s about who you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And you’d make a damn good King.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later, his head swimming, Alistair knocked on Sia’s door. At her greeting, he stepped inside to find Sia seated at a writing desk. Her hair was mussed, her face drawn, but she smiled upon seeing him. “And here I thought Eamon was going to be too busy to harangue you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair closed the door and swiped a hand down his face. “Am I that obvious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pointed at his face. “You get this little worry line between your brows when you’re particularly vexed.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> that obvious. Wonderful.” He leaned against the fire-warmed wood, his muscles screaming with tension. “And while I’m getting lectured, you’re in here snug as a bug.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hardly,” she scoffed, gesturing at the papers in front of her. “Trade agreements with Orzammar. Treaties with the Dalish. And heaps of documents that just suddenly </span>
  <em>
    <span>appeared</span>
  </em>
  <span> from the Circle hierarchy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curious, he came to her side to observe. “What….again, don’t these people know there’s a Blight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia chuckled darkly. “And are already looking to gain the upper hand once it’s over.” She watched him sway on his feet. “Sit, Alistair. You’re too heavy for me to pick up if you keel over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m going to ignore that,” he muttered, his formal leathers squeaking as he sat in the empty chair to her left. “So they all assume it’s going to end well and we won’t all die? I’d like to know how they can be so sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, they’re not. Some of these letters edge on the hysterical, but it’s not all doom and gloom.” Sia shuffled the stacks around. “No, not this one….ah, here we are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair took the proffered parchment she held up triumphantly. Scrawled in some kind of colored ink was a child’s drawing - one figure in grey and blue armor wielding a sword, the other shorter figure in green robes. They were facing off with what looked like goblins; exaggerated, jagged teeth and claws coming for the two humans. She flicked an elegant finger at the parchment, which he flipped around to see a second scene. This time, the two figures stood on a pile of bloody bodies, their grins wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s not all bad,” she said softly. “That’s from Vishal. A raven dropped it off.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair nodded. Vishal was a tiny Dalish boy of about six years who, when they’d first come into the camp, latched onto Alistair as if his little life depended on it. He followed Alistair around while swinging a wooden practice sword, nattering on about dragons and beasties and being a Hunter when he grew up. And when they left the Dalish to return to Denerim, Vishal had given Alistair a leather cord with a bright blue stone carved into a circle. “It was my mum’s,” the little boy had said; but he desperately wanted Alistair to keep the trinket that clearly meant so much to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And since then, Sia had noticed the blue stone around Alistair’s neck. It was there now, the top edge of the circle poking out from his dark grey leathers. “He was a sweet kid,” Alistair replied, not taking his eyes off the drawing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Remember who we fight for.” He nodded, swallowing thickly as he handed the parchment back. “Keep it,“ she said. “We all have things we’re hoping remain after this is over.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence lay in the room as his thoughts swirled. “Ow,” he said after a few moments as he put a hand to his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Immediately Sia was concerned. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Headache. No big deal.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come here.” When he cracked an eye open to give her a confused look, she laughed. Sia moved her chair closer to him and reached out, her fingers hovering over his temples. “May I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair nodded. Her cool fingers pressed against his temples and he hissed in response. “You I’m not worried about, even though that hurts like the devil. Wynne would shove a potion down my throat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Morrigan would laugh at you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grimaced. “Can we not say her name? After all this time, she still really doesn’t like me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be fair, I don’t think she likes most people.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She likes you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made Sia laugh. “That’s because we’re both women who don’t put up with anyone’s shit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia massaged his temples, pushing a small amount of healing energy into his skin. The slight green flare of her magic lit her eyes for a brief moment, but Alistair’s sharp gaze caught it. “Don’t waste it on me,” he said, his voice soft over the crackling of the fireplace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shush. I need to focus.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her tone brooked no argument, but the grin on her face made him smile in return. “Well don’t overdo it. Save some energy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His brain stuttered. “Uh, I….don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia waggled her eyebrows at him. “Are you implying something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh huh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wasn’t!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tapped his head with a fingertip. “He is off with Sten. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Training</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Eamon also wanted him to put some of the soldiers through their paces, since we need more trained archers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair slumped in his chair. “Can we not talk about archers and soldiers right now?” Sia made a noise and he opened his eyes again to see her still grinning. “It’s just….exhausting.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nodded, her face going serious. “It is. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, it’s okay. You didn’t. I just….”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The King stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The King stuff,” he agreed. Sia pressed on a particularly tender spot near his ear and he jumped. “Dammit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now I am going to expend the energy,” she said as she slid a hand around the back of his head, cupping the nape of his neck in her palm. “Alistair, how long has this been bothering you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shrugged, the movement feeble. Alistair knew he couldn’t put up much of a fight against her. “A while. Okay, a few months.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alistair</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A knock at her door made them both turn. “Mi armor, are you all right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia didn’t let go of Alistair’s head as she gestured to the door with her free hand. It opened slowly, revealing a slightly dirty but grinning Zevran, who took in the scene before him. “Oh my, a party,” he said as he slipped inside, closing the door gently behind him. “Has she been good to you so far, Alistair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia snorted and rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. He’s been extra saucy today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am always saucy,” Zevran retorted as he stepped behind her, placing a kiss behind her ear. He glanced up at Alistair through long lashes, smiling coyly. “Aren’t I, Alistair?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his credit, Alistair quickly said, “I have no way of answering that question without making you two laugh at me, so I’ll just stay quiet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia heard Zevran shuffling papers on the desk, then his footsteps leading into the washroom. The door closed just after Zevran said, “I’ll be out in a moment. Those soldiers made me get dirt on my leathers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Welcome distraction removed from the room, Sia refocused on Alistair’s headache. “Just stay still,” she said, gritting her teeth as she pushed more magic through her fingertips. The swell of energy in her chest forced a few deep breaths from her, and Alistair could smell the tea she’d been drinking. It commingled with the scent of her hair and the ink splattered on her hands. Something wormed around low in his gut and he shoved it away. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he had to open his eyes to watch her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Just for a moment</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he told himself. The air around her shimmered green, a haze of magic tinging the edges of her. Her power made the hair on his neck stand up, like it called to something deep within his body. And her face was a mask of concentration; eyes screwed shut, teeth sunk into her lower lip just a little bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looked better now, he thought. Healthier, more whole. Those long weeks in the Deep Roads had worn them all like bad shoe leather, but Sia had taken the brunt of it. And what lay ahead might not be easy, but at least she seemed more focused. “Are you okay? Er….okay now?” The question slipped out too easily and he winced at how forward it sounded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised an eyebrow but didn’t open her eyes. “In what way?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, just from everything that has happened, and your magic uh...surges? Are you feeling all right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia couldn’t stop the smile forming on her face. “You’re a sweet man, Alistair. But yes, I’m better. Sleeping better, not feeling as bone weary as before. And my magic is worrisome still, but with any luck I’ll have the time and energy after all this is over to properly take care of it.” She sensed his question and quickly added, “To study, to focus. To learn how to control it so it doesn’t control me anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s good. That’s really good, Sia.” He put his hands gently over hers and pulled them away from his temples. “I’m glad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That made her blink at him, the expression on her face so soft and gentle as they stared at each other. “You make me sound like I need round the clock care. Am I that far gone already?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was teasing him, he knew. But he couldn’t suppress the urge to make her feel better. “I’ve seen what you can do. I would never </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> make it sound like you’re anything but the most powerful mage I’ve ever met.” She rolled her eyes so hard she feared they’d stick. But she made no move away from him. </span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Zevran quietly watched them from the washroom door, his heart swollen with care and devotion as he observed their bond. Sia gave what she could of herself to everyone, but to those she kept close? They got something extra, and he watched Alistair realize, maybe for the first time, just how well-regarded and loved he was in Sia’s eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia squeezed Alistair’s hands and said softly, “We’ll get through this. And I won’t poke at the wound Eamon likely opened up, but you would be a great King. I’ll stand by that until my dying day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re serious.” At Sia’s vigorous nod, Alistair blew out a breath. “Well, fuck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, and there’s my cue,” Zevran said, going to the small cabinet on the other side of the bed. He had changed into a worn tunic and loose breeches, his feet bare and silent across the flagstone floor. “I think if we’re going to discuss politics and what have you, it is best to do so with a full wine glass.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia winked at Alistair. “He knows me too well.” But she still didn’t release his hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something about the fluid, languid way Zevran moved around the room made Alistair blink. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>too easy</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the man. Simply too easy. Every movement lazy but precise, as if he knew he was being watched and was determined to make good on that attention. But it was also made of self-assurance, from the blood and bone of one who knew who they were at all times. A younger Alistair might have seethed at such a being in his presence, but instead he was fascinated.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe even a little enthralled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was easy to write Zevran off as a criminal for hire who was a tad too pretty and utilized his good looks to his advantage. But Alistair knew better - and clearly Sia did too. She watched the elf from the corner of her eye, the tiniest smirk on her face as she waited for the promised wine to appear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do not mind,” Zevran said as he approached with a tray, setting it down on the chest at the foot of the bed. “I am the kind of creature who enjoys being watched, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At that Alistair coughed, unable to quell the blush rising on his cheeks. “I uh….didn’t. What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran reached around Sia unnecessarily, letting his fingers brush over the skin above the open neck of her robes. She shivered against him, her inhale sharp as his index finger teased along the line of her clavicle. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair couldn’t tear his eyes away from them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hand me the bottle, would you?” Zevran asked the other man, and Alistair responded almost too quickly, nearly knocking over the bottle. “Ah, there we are.” He poured a glass of wine with his arms looped around Sia, pressing a kiss into her hair just as the pour finished. “For you, my friend.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair took the proffered glass, grateful for something to hold and keep his hands occupied. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his hands, but he figured balling them against his breeches might be a tad obvious. As Sia and Zevran bantered, talking about the soldiers and Zevran’s assessment of their forces so far, Alistair felt itchy. Restless. It wasn’t what they were talking about but how easily it came to them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If all this death didn’t weigh heavily on them, they were making a right show of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, I should go,” Alistair said suddenly, getting to his feet and handing over his glass, but not before draining it. “Don’t want to spoil the party or anything.” He chuckled awkwardly, more sound than feeling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay, Alistair. We’re having dinner sent up,” Sia replied as she turned to him. Her cheeks were rosy from the wine, her smile wide and inviting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, I’ll just go,” Alistair said quickly, making his way to the door. “Should probably rest, anyways. We only got to Denerim and we’ve already had plenty of nobles falling over themselves to curry favor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran lifted his glass. “With their chosen King.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha. Right. Okay. Leaving now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Alistair walked out into the hall, the tension that had pooled in the base of his spine refused to uncoil. He pressed his back against the cold stone wall; the shock of it made him shiver. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Was I reading into that? Should I have stayed?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His thoughts wandered, wondering. He wondered about warm hands and soft robes and how easy it would be to lose himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>They were being friendly and hospitable. Nothing untoward, nothing….inviting. Just being my friends.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who once joked about getting me into bed with them.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Andraste’s flaming ass.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should we have asked? Maybe we were too subtle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You worry too much, mi amor. He is far from stupid. I think we shocked him, is all.” Zevran laughed, the sound rich and dark and all too decadent. It wound around Alistair like a sheet draped precariously over one’s backside. “Do you want me to go ask him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Sia hesitated. “No. I just…..he’s very dear to me and he’s wound tighter than a halla’s horn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And neither of us would be lying if we said we wanted him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That too. Ah, fuck. I made a mess of it. I practiced and practiced what I’d say and when the time came around, I couldn’t do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping. He </span>
  <b>knew</b>
  <span> it. But even as his face burned, he wanted to hear more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a silence, and then Sia said, “Did you see him in those leathers?” A sound like flesh hitting cloth. Zevran laughed again. “All right, smartass, you know what I mean. My gods, it’s like they were poured onto his body. I couldn’t stop staring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I almost did the thing where you ‘accidentally’ drop an item and then watch as they bend over to pick it up. That’s what he has reduced me to. Trite games to get a stare at his backside.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia chuckled. “Oh, we are very dumb, aren’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Indeed we are.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And without another thought, Alistair flung open their door. The surprise and delight on their faces thrilled him. And something about the darkness in Sia’s eyes made his heart thump hard in his chest. “So what’s this about an invite, then?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Threesome ahead! (Again)</p><p>Discussions of consent also contained within; remember, consent is key and super sexy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Were you eavesdropping, Alistair?” Zevran waggled his finger at the othe Warden. “Naughty.”</p><p>Sia couldn’t keep the smirk off her face when Alistair stared hungrily at her bare legs, visible from where she was curled up on the divan by the fireplace. “Now don’t tease him, Zev,” she said softly, beckoning to Alistair with a crooked finger. “He came to us.”</p><p>She could see her fellow Warden swallow hard but when he approached her with a determined light in his eyes, she turned her smirk into a grin. “If we’re going to do this, we need to put down some ground rules.”</p><p>“Ground rules?” Alistair looked from her to Zevran and back. “You mean like….things I like and things I don’t?”</p><p>Zevran hopped over the divan to sit beside Sia; he spread his knees wide as he settled on the plush sofa. “As a start, but there is more. It also involves our boundaries, what we like and do not.” At Alistair’s pale face, Zevran smiled gently. “It is a conversation <em> mi amor </em> and I always have with our lovers. We would never push or make you uncomfortable. We follow your lead, not the other way around.”</p><p>The word “lovers” rang in Alistair’s ears. He knew about Leliana; hard not to when all three would come tumbling out of a tent or tavern room, laughing and shrugging back into clothes and armor. He blinked against the implication; he wasn’t a prude but he had to admit surprise.</p><p>“I think we’ve startled him,” Sia said softly. “Alistair, you don’t have to do anything. I know I’ve teased you before but we would never force you to do anything.”</p><p>“I know that.” He looked to Zevran, then back at Sia. They were both relaxed, wine in hand, and Zevran toyed with the ends of Sia’s hair. It spilled like a red wave over and down her shoulders, catching firelight and sparking in the dim room. “But I don’t know what to do.”</p><p>Zevran and Sia exchanged a look - an entire conversation was had in that glance. In tandem, they slid apart and made room for Alistair to sit between them. He felt too big, too clumsy between such lithe creatures. He pulled at his leather chestpiece. “Can I take this off? It’s so warm in here and this seems like a silly place to wear armor.”</p><p>“It is a very silly place to wear armor,” Zevran purred, looking but not touching. “Would you like us to assist?”</p><p>Alistair bit the inside of his cheek, but nodded. “That’d be nice.”</p><p>Sia held up a finger. “Just helping, nothing more.”</p><p>“You could - I mean….I won’t say <em> no more </em> .” Maker’s breath, it sounded like the feeblest <em> yes </em> ever, even to Alistair’s own ears. They simply waited him out as he took a deep breath and continued. “You can touch me.”</p><p>Sia felt that dark, velvety pull of <em> want </em>curl inside her stomach. Oh she’d dreamt this up before, Alistair wedged between them, learning how to kiss and touch and fuck. She and Zevran had talked about it many times, but had never settled on what they deemed the appropriate approach. </p><p>And now he had come to them, willingly. It was a gift, one they wouldn’t squander.</p><p>Sia took his hand in hers and squeezed; not unlike the gesture she used when he was stressed or unable to sleep due to nightmares from which they both suffered. Alistair looked down at their hands, then back up at her, a toothy grin on his face. “Is this okay?”</p><p>“Yes.” He was grateful that the shaky edge had gone out of his voice. There was something grounding about her grip on his hand, like a lifeline when he’d been feeling like drowning just an hour before when speaking with Eamon. “Yes, it’s very good.”</p><p>“May I help with this side?” Zevran asked, scooting closer, gesturing to Alistair’s armor.</p><p>But if held down and forced to confess, Alistair would admit that Zevran made him nervous. They were both so beautiful, so deadly. But something about the other man shook Alistair on a core level. He’d be lying if he said he <em> hadn’t </em> thought about what it would be like to kiss Zevran, but he’d dismissed it as fleeting, a fantasy dredged up late at night when the claws of darkspawn and the roar of the Archdemon rent his mind.</p><p><em> Am I attracted to men? Maybe I should have thought about this more before I barged back in here </em>.</p><p>Sensing his hesitation, Zevran hovered his hand over Alistair’s shoulder. “My friend. If you are having second thoughts, know we love and respect you. We will not keep you here.”</p><p>“Love has to be freely given,” Sia said, squeezing his hand again. “And we don’t judge.” She was silent for a moment and then said, “Zevran and I are…..together.” With a nod from Zevran, she continued. “But we enjoy bringing other people into our bed from time to time. It’s sex and intimacy, but it is not love, Alistair. I want to be very clear about that. We will welcome you with us as long as we’re all in agreement.” She ran delicate fingers across his wrist, the touch strangely arousing. </p><p>Alistair’s mouth worked, trying to come up with words. “I understand,” he replied, looking at both of them with a flushed face. “I know people do this, I just don’t have any experience with it.” He grinned suddenly, his cheeky nature rising to the surface. “But I’d like to learn. And I...I want to say this, if you’ll let me.” He turned to Zevran, gaze sharp on the smaller man. “Sia is beautiful. And powerful. And I think I’ve had a crush on her since the day we met. But you are -”</p><p>
  <em> Dangerous </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Deadly </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Confusing </em>
</p><p>“I don’t know what to think,” he finally confessed, the air leaving his lungs in a rush so quickly he felt dizzy. “Would it be bad if...if I want to kiss you?”</p><p>Zevran raised an eyebrow, his eyes lit with interest. “I would love for you to kiss me.”</p><p>“Okay. Yes.” Alistair barely registered Sia letting go of his hand, but he was grateful for the ability to put both of his hands on Zevran’s face and lean down. Zevran let himself be guided, let Alistair make the first move. The first brush of lips. He glanced back at Sia’s small smile and dark eyes, giving her a wink that she returned.</p><p>And then he focused solely on Alistair. </p><p>Zevran’s lips were cool but smooth, and kissing him was an entirely new experience for Alistair. He’d never kissed a man before, wasn’t sure how it would make him feel. But tasting the spice and wine on Zevran, the scent of leather and smoke flooding his nostrils? It was unlike anything Alistair could have imagined, and he felt utterly drawn to the man in front of him.</p><p>But Zevran wasn’t kissing him back, not really. Zev was letting <em> him </em> kiss and feel. Alistair pulled away quickly, his face flushed, chest heaving. “Did I do something wrong?”</p><p>“No, no Alistair. Not at all.” Zevran’s voice was husky. “I simply wanted to ensure you felt comfortable with what was happening. Before I returned any affections.”</p><p>“Do you want to kiss me?” Alistair reddened even more. “Oh, you said <em> affections </em>.”</p><p>“Yes.” The word was a hiss, succulent and rattling and Alistair shivered a little. Zevran’s face had gone dark; his lips parted, his eyes almost black in the firelight. “But like I said, consent is key. I will never do anything that pushes boundaries or makes you uncomfortable. Not on purpose.”</p><p>Alistair turned to Sia and found her curled up behind him, glass in hand and other hand toying with the belt on her robe. “I would be content to watch you two.”</p><p>Zevran clucked at her and she laughed. “You are a tease, mi amor. You know for a fact I will not let you sit idly by.”</p><p>Alistair’s face suddenly lit up, hopeful. “Does that mean you’d both kiss me?”</p><p>Slowly, Sia set her glass aside and got to her knees, barely taller than Alistair even with the extra height. She held her hands out and Alistair didn’t hesitate to take them in his own. “You called me beautiful.”</p><p>“It’s because you are.”</p><p>She let a tiny essence of magic swirl around her. It wove spectral tendrils around her face and neck, and around where their hands were joined. “And what else?”</p><p>Something pricked at the back of Alistair’s neck. Maybe it was his Templar training, maybe it was simply the innate sense most creatures have when confronted with something far beyond their understanding. “Powerful,” he whispered, staring at her in awe.</p><p>“Our Sia does so love to be worshipped,” Zevran said in his ear. “I bet she will let you have your fill.”</p><p>That made Alistair’s head swim with possibilities. He stood, pulling Sia with him. Her robe slipped off one shoulder, revealing the thin tunic underneath. It made Alistair’s fingers ache just looking at her like this. He wanted to touch, to taste. Both of them. </p><p>“This is not an either or thing, Alistair,” Zevran said smoothly as he came to their side. “If you wish it, you can have us both. We’re quite giving.” </p><p>“Kiss me.” Alistair whipped back around to Sia and her cheshire grin. “Kiss me, Alistair. Zevran and I will always tell you what we want and it will be up to you to decide if you wish to give. Saying no is not a bad thing.”</p><p>“And if I may, I would like to see you kiss her.” He pressed close to Alistair. “And I can help you with this armor, and ask only for a kiss in return.”</p><p>There was something about the way they both stared at him now, as if the dam was slowly breaking open, that made Alistair gulp. But it was in anticipation, not dread. “All right. Just don’t stand there and not kiss me back,” he teased, feeling a tad bolder now. He leaned down to Sia, who tipped her head up in open acceptance of his descent to her lips. </p><p>She was <em> everything </em> he’d ever imagined and so much more. Warm and soft and some shade of delicate he didn’t quite understand or let fool him. He felt her arms wind around his neck, her fingers toying with the hair at the nape. Alistair couldn’t stop a small moan from escaping between them as she touched him and kissed him back. He was soon lost in the taste of her.</p><p>“Please touch me,” she said, breaking off the kiss for the smallest moment. “Alistair.”</p><p>He needed no further encouragement. Alistair slid his arms behind her back, somewhat unsure of how to hold her. “Let me,” Zevran said as he moved Alistair’s hands to Sia’s hips. “Just like that.”</p><p>“Argh, this stupid armor,” Alistair said, frustration coloring his voice. </p><p>“Again, let me.” Quick fingers were inching up his chest from behind him, Zevran’s form like smoke swirling around them. “If that is all right.” Alistair could only nod before Sia yanked his head back down, driving him to distraction while Zevran pulled off his armor.</p><p>“How did you - how did you do that?”</p><p>Zevran grinned cheekily at Alistair from the corner of the room where he placed Alistair’s armor. “Maybe I am magic.”</p><p>Sia reached for the elf, linking their fingers together. “I can guarantee some parts of him definitely are.”</p><p>Alistair looked between them, baffled. “Oh. OH.” Then his eyes flicked downward. “That was a dumb thing of me to say, huh?”</p><p>Zevran pulled them both over to the bed, watching Alistair’s face closely. “Not at all. Sia has her little jokes at my expense?”</p><p>“Your expense?” Sia retorted, eyes glittering.</p><p>“How is not the whole of me magic?” He yanked on Sia’s hips, slotting her neatly to sit across his crossed legs. “I do believe you have said as much many, <em> many </em> times.”</p><p>Alistair watched them, both amused by their banter and intensely attracted to the pretty picture they made. Her hair tumbled across his shoulders, her robe hiked up around her thighs, where Zevran’s hands ran back and forth across supple skin. But the way they looked at each other was...intense. And he felt as though he were spying on something private.</p><p>That is, until Sia said, “Alistair, come here.” She patted the bed behind her. “I do love the idea of being trapped between you two.” </p><p>Sia was greeted with smooth skin against her chest and her back, but the real thrill was watching Zevran and Alistair kiss around her. What Alistair lacked in experience he overachieved in enthusiasm, and Zevran was making the most <em> delightful </em> little noises in the back of his throat while Alistair tongue-fucked him.</p><p>“Boys, boys,” Sia said, running hands down both their flanks. “Leave some for me.”</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Hours later </em>
</p><p>“That shouldn’t have worked.”</p><p>“Ah, but it did.” Zevran gave Alistair’s thigh a poke. “You, my friend, have the strength of several men.”</p><p>“Shush you two, I’m trying to enjoy my afterglow.” Sia snuggled up to Zevran and pulled Alistair’s arm around her. “Give me a few minutes and we’ll go again.”</p><p>Zevran laughed. “Warden stamina is certainly a gift.”</p><p>Alistair ran his hand over Sia’s hip and pressed his face into the back of her neck, leaving lingering kisses there. “I just need maybe five minutes.”</p><p>“I am looking forward to a very good show,” Zevran purred. </p><p>Sia laughed as she squirmed against Alistair’s touch. “Does it count as a debauching after the first go?”</p><hr/><p>“Why would the son of the former Arl of Denerim be in the Alienage?” Morrigan wrinkled her nose at the smell from a nearby pile of refuse.</p><p>“I do not know. But my information is good, so we must trust he is here.” Zevran scanned their surroundings as they walked through the first muddy street of Denerim’s Alienage.</p><p>“Or it’s a trap,” Sia said.</p><p>“Somehow that would not surprise me,” Alistair replied. He shifted in his armor, feeling like a turkey over a fire. The sun beat down mercilessly on an unseasonably warm late winter day and tromping through the Alienage was not his idea of a good time.</p><p>Alistair had fully expected to enjoy his time with Zevran and Sia, but it took him by surprise just how much he enjoyed it. His experience with sex was next to nothing, a bit of kissing and some fumblings with a few tavern girls before Duncan recruited him from Templar ranks. He didn’t think one’s first time was some special magical thing, meant to be a marker, a milestone.</p><p>But he hadn’t expected <em> them </em>. His memories of that night swirled, hazy like smoke through a curtain, but he could still taste their pleasure, their kisses. Could still feel their hands wandering, seeking, and finding purchase on every part of his body. Could still feel Sia’s mouth on him, then Zevran’s, driving him to a point past no return. </p><p>And Maker help him, he wanted all that again. But some part of him - tiny, but oh so loud - wanted something more primal, too. He had a vision of taking Sia up against the wall, while Zevran took him from behind. Pinned between their bodies, thrusting into her as he was thrust into. The sheer possibility nearly made his eyes cross; being pinned, being fucked while fucking, feeling that impossible heat and velvet.</p><p>He knew it wasn’t love, but lust was a powerful motivator, too. And now that he’d had a taste, he craved new experiences with them.</p><p>“Still with us?” Sia asked softly, a small smile on her face. A knowing smile.</p><p>Alistair schooled his face into a mask but replied just as quietly, “Thinking.” He cut his eyes to Zevran; the elf was keeping his gaze level and aware, but the tiny smirk on his face said he was listening. “About you two.”</p><p>“Ah, a repeat?” Sia said. “I think that can be managed. Especially since the Landsmeet is in two days.”</p><p>“An excellent bit of stress relief,” Zevran finally said.</p><p>“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Alistair admitted with a shrug.</p><p>They stopped as Morrigan did, in front of a decrepit house on the edge of a main path and an alley. “This is definitely not correct,” the witch said, keen eyes scanning the building. “You said we’d have to give that letter to the guards. No bodies, no blood. And I detect no life inside.” She looked to her companions. “Be cautious.” And with a flap of wings, Morrigan transformed into a raven and took to the rooftops, her head swiveling to and fro.</p><p>“Let’s get out of eyeline,” Alistair said as he slowly backed away, hand on his sword. He heard Sia mutter under breath and then seconds later, her form shimmered with an arcane shield. </p><p>Zevran’s daggers were already out, sparking in the hot sun, one dripping with sinister green. He jerked his head toward an alley across the way and they moved quickly toward it.  Once wedged in the cool shadows of the neighboring buildings, Zevran pointed up, waited for a nod from Sia and Alistair, and then began to swing up to the roof. </p><p>“So, trap then,” Alistair said, dark humor lacing his words.</p><p>“What’s new?” Sia kept her eyes on Zevran until he disappeared over the lip of the roof. “Honestly, it’s becoming a bit old hat anymore. Trap this, kill the Wardens that.”</p><p>“Glad you can be so glib about it.” Alistair pulled at the neck of his armor; a futile gesture since the metal had as much give as brick. But he smiled down at her. “We do get ourselves into the most interesting <em> situations </em>.”</p><p>A loud squawk from Morrigan drew their attention. With one wing, she motioned past them, then exploded off the roof, flying overhead at such a pace she became a blur of black against the brilliant blue sky. Sia heard in her mind, “<em> Zevran. Crows </em> . <em> Follow </em>.”</p><p>Sia sucked in a breath and took off, yelling for Alistair over her shoulder. The panic there, the urgency, made Alistair’s adrenaline spike. Sia skidded in the mud rounding the corner, then darted into the next alley, ducking haphazardly strung clotheslines, tearing them down in a red haze of panic and worry. </p><p>The next alley opened into a wider, but still rather mud-caked, courtyard, and standing in front of a large crowd of leather-clad assassins (and assassins they were, from their bows and blades), was Zevran. Morrigan transformed again, landing right next to Zevran. Her sudden appearance startled a few of the hard-faced people in the crowd, but the man in front waved a hand at them.</p><p>“Got a witch then, Zevran?” the man jeered. He caught sight of Sia and Alistair coming up from behind. “Two witches? And what, a cannon fodder boy? How adorable.” The man crossed his arms, weapons still at his sides. “It’s been a long time, Z. Time to come back to the flock.”</p><p>Sia motioned for Alistair to flank with Morrigan, but she stayed back. <em> If there was ever a need for this...whatever you are, now would be a good time. You can even boast about it when we next meet. </em> She didn’t want to draw attention to the power she was gathering, reaching for that thread of Fade magic that lingered under her skin like a splinter.</p><p>“I must decline, Taliesen,” Zevran said, arms still crossed, spine rigid. “Tell them you killed me and burned the body. But you should go.”</p><p>“Oh really?” Taliesen smirked. “Because you have two witches and a washed out Templar?”</p><p>Morrigan scoffed. “There’s only one witch here, and she does not take insult lightly.”</p><p>Alistair’s sword glinted in the light as he said, “Never been happier to be a washed out Templar, thank you very much.”</p><p>Taliesen nodded at Sia. “Then who is the pretty little bitch at the back?”</p><p>Sia swore she heard Alistair suck in a sharp breath. But she was too focused on pulling power through her limbs and veins to pay much mind. </p><p>
  <em> Assassins? Such interesting company you keep. </em>
</p><p>“Not nearly as interesting as disembodied voices that like to mess around in my brain,” Sia muttered, keeping her eyes on Zevran. </p><p>
  <em> On the contrary. Assassins are the mark of politics, particularly when power imbalances begin to tip the scale. You are in an Alienage, are you not? The Elves here may descend from Elvhen, but they have long been lost.  You would be better off burning it down on your way out. </em>
</p><p>The callous, cold cruelty in the being’s voice made Sia shiver. “And the assassins?” </p><p>
  <em> I will aid you. I know why you fight so. But my aid comes with a price. Not now, but soon. </em>
</p><p>Power spilled from her hands, green and swirling, and it rolled forward like a fog. The mage in the back of the Crow ranks visibly blanched, and with no warning, took off out of the courtyard. Taliesen spat. “Coward! Traitor! I will gut you next.”</p><p>And he danced forward toward Zevran, wicked end of a dagger pointed at Zevran’s belly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All hell broke loose.</p><p>Morrigan shot fire from her hands in a cone, scorching the front line of attackers. Alistair rushed a group of five Crows, sword high, shield at the ready. His smite burst forth in a faint blue cloud, and any magic on any attacker withered and died. Sia let her magic roll out in a sinuous wave, feeling it hum and pulse and push at her skin, her hair, even the ends of her nerves and her teeth. Her power dove into ears and noses and through eyeballs, dropping anyone it touched like a stone sunk in a pond. But oh how they screamed on the way down.</p><p>And Zevran engaged Taliesen in a deadly dance, rapiers and daggers sparking off each other as dust and blood flew. So locked were they in their fight that they either ignored, or didn’t notice, the next wave of Crows who showed up; armed with fire arrows and more magic, they rushed headlong into the fray.</p><p>Sia tried to keep one eye on Zevran but as a particularly large man charged her, battleaxe raised high, she spun, staff pointed out.</p><p>
  <em> Allow me, Warden. </em>
</p><p>Something grabbed ahold of her - yanking her forward like a rope around her waist. With no conscious thought toward it, her staff jabbed out, then up, catching the warrior under the chin. It should have stunned him. He fell dead, sightless eyes open in shock and disbelief.</p><p>
  <em> Satisfying, but crude.  </em>
</p><p>And then Sia heard Zevran scream as Taliesen slashed his ribs.</p><p>Anguish fueled her magic, and fear and anger were close behind. As Zevran fell, Sia felt a hand, cold like Death, touch her own. <em> I will show you </em>. </p><p>She was no healer, no swamp witch or herbalist. Her skill lay in ruin and chaos, death and destruction, and all of it powered by the Fade. </p><p><em> You can manifest what you need, when you need it. </em> The rope yanked again, propelling her faster than her feet could take her to Zevran. <em> But we should take care of him, first. </em></p><p>Taliesen leered at the bleeding, dying rogue on the ground, the tip of his rapier waggling under Zevran’s nose. “Ah, Zev. You should have come back. It would have been so good. The fights, the money, the whores -”</p><p><em> Let me in. Open your mind and LET ME IN </em> . <em> I will save Zevran, and take care of this roach. </em></p><p>And so the decision was made.</p><p>Hand held out in front of her, Sia and her invisible passenger made a fist. Time slowed.</p><p>The sounds of battle -the roar of fire, the chatter of ice, the hiss of bowstrings - all faded. Everything blurred in her vision except Taliesen and Zevran. Zevran’s eyes were dark and blood dribbled from his mouth, but he still tried to wave Sia away. “No, <em> mi amor </em> -”</p><p>“Such a filthy little thing,” Sia/not Sia said, their voices twined around each other, snaking in and out of tone so you could not tell where one began and the other ended. “Your lives are already so short and yet you choose to spend them rolling around in the dirt, slaughtering needlessly.” Taliesen writhed in their grip, held by nothing but unseen force. “But I do see the appeal.”</p><p>The Crow’s eyes bugged out of their sockets as he was pulled off the ground. He began to splutter and cough as his hands flew to his throat. Taliesen gagged, his feet kicking in the air. “No, please!” he choked out as his movements grew more frantic. As the panic set in.</p><p>“Does your pathetic life flash before you? Was anything worth it, little roach? Was any of it?” The voice was greedy, even gluttonous. It fed on Taliesen’s fear and licked the promise of death and pain off Sia’s fingers. “What a waste.”</p><p>The sickening <em> crunch </em> of bone snapping precluded Taliesen’s limp body dropping to the ground. It took seconds, but to Sia, who had been trapped in her own body, it had felt like hours. Control given back to her, she rushed to Zevran’s side and put her hands over his wound.</p><p>“It is all right, Sia,” Zevran whispered, blood flecking his lips. “I have taken worse.” Something swam in her eyes, dark and lustrous and enchanting, but it also frightened him.</p><p>“Don’t talk,” Sia said. “And don’t move.”</p><p>With everything she had left, Sia fed Zevran’s body her will, her mana, and her love. She ordered the blood to stop spurting out of the horrendous gash in his ribs, and commanded the flesh to knit, the skin to return to unblemished perfection.</p><p>She willed him to live.</p><p>Time sped back up, her vision returning, her mind clearing. Sia blinked tears out of her eyes and saw the blood on her hands. But under his damaged armor, Zevran was healed. <em> Completely </em>. “Thank the Maker,” she said, running her fingers over his flesh.</p><p>Zevran pulled her hand to his lips, his eyes oddly bright. “Are you all right?”</p><p>Sia shook her head. “You are nearly gutted and you ask me if I’m all right?” She spared a glance at Taliesen’s broken body. “He’s dead.”</p><p>“And he deserved it. Help me up so I might spit on his corpse.”</p><p>As they got Zevran to his feet, Sia’s arm around his waist, they were able to view the whole of the battlefield. Alistair and Morrigan were back to back - righteous fury and unstoppable magic. Power swirled around them as Alistair brought his sword down on the last Crow on the left, while Morrigan shot a knife of ice into the eye of the final archer. They turned, in tandem, to see Zevran and Sia gazing at them in wonder.</p><p><em>Impressive. I think you may actually be able to handle the Archdemon. I’ll leave you to your business, but we should talk.</em> <em>I’ll find you when you’re ready</em>.</p><p>The voice left a chill in its wake, and it settled in her bones like the deepest winter freeze.<br/><br/></p><hr/><p><br/>“How are we out of elfroot again?”</p><p>Sia put a hand on Wynne’s shoulders. “I’ll get more. Eamon said to use his garden but I’m afraid with as much as we get injured, we’d strip it bare in two days.”</p><p>Wynne chuckled and pushed a lock of hair out of her face. Her eyes were tired; mouth drawn in a frown that could have made any schoolmarm hesitate in their tracks. “True enough. I’m finishing up here, could you-”</p><p>“Go over to Wonders of Thedas and get more? Yes.” Sia wanted to sound like there was no hesitation in her voice, but she mentally cringed at thinking about running into Beldon again.</p><p>Tranquil. Her friend.</p><p>She’d barely had time to register the shock before they had to rush off again into danger. But his blank face and monotone haunted her. </p><p>“I’ll be quick,” she promised. </p><p>“You’d better,” Zevran said from the bed on the other side of the room. “Wynne seeks to poke and prod about my poor, battered body until I cannot take any more.”</p><p>Sia came to his side, concern etched on her face. “Are you certain you’re okay?”</p><p>He took her hand and linked their fingers together. “Sia, I am much more concerned about you. We need to talk about this.”</p><p>She nodded, a sigh escaping her. “I know. I don’t even know what that was but it scared me.”</p><p>“It was as though someone worked through you, <em> mi amor </em>. Like you were a…” Zevran paused, worried his bottom lip with his teeth.</p><p>“A what?”</p><p>“A puppet. A tool for someone else’s purposes.”</p><p>“Some <em> thing’s </em> purposes, perhaps.”</p><p>Wynne gave them a knowing glance as she passed by, but didn’t attempt to interject. Sia knew she owed Wynne a conversation as well. Especially since Wynne was home to a spirit and perhaps could help discern the entity that had taken control.</p><p><em> It’s that same hooded being I keep seeing in my dreams. But they’re getting more aggressive. It was horrifying. And thrilling </em>.</p><p>She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and leaned down to kiss Zevran’s brow. “I’m running an errand. Be back soon.”</p><p>Once out in the early chill of twilight, Sia took a deep breath. Her thoughts swirled - too many things to do, too many things to fix. And a fucking Archdemon to kill. </p><p>And that’s if they survived the Landsmeet in two days. They’d done so much simping and bowing and yes, even blackmailing, to get nobles on their side. It helped that Sia was noble herself, from a family known for both high acts of charity and devastating business decisions that cut out the knees from the competition. With Zayd cowed in a corner, they should have what they need.</p><p>But Alistair needed to take the throne, that much was clear. Line of succession cut a clear path for him, but the looming visage of Loghain and his minions stood in the way. Another conversation to have in the dwindling hours before all their fates were on the line.</p><p>Sia’s feet got her to the Wonders of Thedas almost of their own accord. It wasn’t until she pushed into the shop and caught whiffs of smoke, old paper, ink, and the ozone of magic that she fully realized her journey had passed almost without her notice.</p><p>The shop was open every hour of every day, but toward evening business tapered off. Sia noticed a somewhat familiar woman behind the counter and saw a few browsers, but she was more concerned about seeing Beldon again. </p><p>
  <em> You’re a coward. You don’t want to own up to the fate you left him in while you ran off and got yourself made a Warden.  Even worse, you’re selfish. If you’d stayed at the Circle, you might have been able to save Beldon. And now you’re traipsing about Ferelden while he’s gone. Stripped of everything he was just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. </em>
</p><p>But some other tiny part of her was traitorous. And very, very angry. <em> Why didn’t Cullen help him? </em></p><p>With a sigh, Sia made her way to the back of the shop where the herbalist and alchemy supplies were kept. She didn’t see or hear Beldon anywhere, but asking for him at the main desk seemed nigh impossible. Without another thought, she pulled parchment and a charcoal stick from her bag, then quickly sketched a rune she could have drawn with her eyes closed.</p><p>
  <em> The Eternal Flame, said to be the rune signifying the power wielded by Andraste herself. Beldon was never religious, but he found comfort in the rune and was always sketching it. </em>
</p><p>She folded the paper and walked over to the main desk. The Tranquil woman behind it bowed her head. “Welcome to The Wonders of Thedas. I am Myrina. How may I help you today?”</p><p>Sia held out the paper. “Can you give this to Beldon?”</p><p>The woman looked down at the paper, then back up. Her eerie, frozen expression didn’t change. “Beldon has been summoned to the Circle Tower at Lake Calenhad. But he has not left yet. He will return tomorrow to pick up his belongings.” She took the parchment and tucked it away beneath the counter. “I will give it to him tomorrow. Can I help with anything else?”</p><p>“No, I’m good.” Sia let out a breath. “Thanks.” Summoned to the Circle Tower was hopefully safer than staying in Denerim. Sia hoped it was because the mages needed people for restoration, and made a mental note to write the Grand Enchanter and inquire about Beldon’s fate.</p><p>The woman bowed her head again and began to dust the already spotless counter.</p><p>Sia walked back to the alchemy supplies and began to fill a small box with elfroot and dawn lotus, referring to a list Wynne had pressed into her hands before she slipped out of Eamon’s estate. Alistair had wanted to come with her, but two Wardens - one who might be king - alone in the dark streets of Denerim was a risk she wasn’t willing to take this close to the Landsmeet.</p><p>“Underneath.”</p><p>The whispered word far too close for comfort to her ear made Sia freeze. She moved her head to view its speaker - a shabbily dressed man with hollow cheeks, his eyes half-hidden by a tattered cloak. “Excuse me?”</p><p>The man pointed with a long, thin finger. “They keep the freshest supplies underneath. Little trick I learned a while back. More potency for your money.”</p><p>Sia blinked, but recovered with a smile. “Ah. Thank you, ser.”</p><p>The man shrugged and Sia could see his scrawny frame nearly swallowed by the ratty cloak he wore. “You look like you know what you’re doing. Figured I’d help.” He began to reach for the bloodroot to her left and then froze. “Where did you get that?”</p><p>He was staring at her Warden pin, the one Alistair had given her, even though it was half-hidden by her cloak (by design, of course). She put a protective hand over the pin. “It was a gift.”</p><p>In an instant, the man’s mood changed. He gave her a bitter smile, the expression drawing his thin skin tight across his skull. He looked almost ghoulish in the flickering candlelight. “Take good care of it. It’d be a favor to me, that is.”</p><p>Recognition flashed in Sia’s memory. <em> “Right so uh….right. I’m a Grey Warden.  And I never want to go into the Deep Roads ever again. So I guess consider this my termination notice. So whoever is listening to this, I’m a Grey Warden and my name is Anders.” </em></p><p>“Wait!” she said as the man turned away. “Anders?”</p><p>He went rigid but didn’t face her. “So you did find it. Clever.” He spun on his heel, his dusty, worn boots kicking up a puff of plant detritus. “I did hope another mage would find it.” After a furtive look around, he pushed his hood back. He looked hollow and underfed. The dark stains under his eyes were so purple they nearly burst black, and they made his brown eyes dull. His dark blond hair hung limply over his shoulders. And Sia could see the canyon of his clavicle as though it would break through the skin.</p><p>He eyed her closely and she felt a shiver of magic ripple over her body. He was scanning her. “You’re one of the Wardens come to save us from the Archdemon.”</p><p>She nodded. “I am.”</p><p>“I thought you lot never traveled alone. Where is your kingly companion?”</p><p>“Safe.”</p><p>He smiled thinly at that. “Smart. Between Loghain’s bounty and the superstitious street gangs, you’ll attract less attention traveling alone. Though traveling alone, at night in Denerim, isn’t so smart.” He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. “The answer’s no. I left the Wardens and I don’t intend on going back.” Anders leaned in, his voice a rough whisper. “And the last time they hauled me in, it took eight of their biggest warriors, plus two mages. I’m not an easy target.”</p><p>Sia crossed her arms. “I wasn’t going to take you back to the Wardens. Merely curious as to how you left to begin with.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s a good story.” But he didn’t move; he was rooted to the spot, looking at her with growing suspicion. And a hint of curiosity. “But I don’t kiss and tell for free.”</p><p>Sia grinned, the expression sharp on her face. “Name a price.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/>While Sia went back to the Arl’s estate to check on Zevran and inform Alistair of the new Warden in their midst, Anders stayed in the relative safety of The Wonders of Thedas. One, he didn’t relish the thought of walking up to Eamon’s front door and knocking, just expecting to be let in. Even with a noble vouching for him, he still looked like he’d been drug through the mud by a particularly irksome cow. </p><p>While he had no problems looking like a street urchin, he did have a problem with nobles. And authority. And most other people.</p><p>Sia likely wasn’t any different. Noble-born, but a mage. The electric spark of magic hung on every bit of her. He’d taken the chance to scan her while she stood so near and he saw power in spades, but not much control. Though what did he know about control? He kept getting caught, and kept escaping; some sick game he wasn’t sure why he kept playing.</p><p>What he didn’t want to call attention to was her little passenger - the grey-green stink of the Fade and whatever form it had bottled itself into. It likely wasn’t a demon; that would have been obvious and more than a little dangerous. Demons burned out their hosts and left their decayed, withered husks behind. The small glimpse he got of this thing screamed <em> old magic </em>. Maybe even ancient. </p><p>And if it lived in the Fade and was as old as maybe even the Black City? It had a bargain to sell, and the price would be Sia’s soul.</p><p>As he ran his fingers over the gilded book spines near the staircase, he toyed with the thought of telling her. She knew she had a passenger, there was no question. But he was curious as to how it had interacted with her so far. </p><p>Anders stopped on a book about the Fade and idly flipped through it, seeking one word.</p><p>
  <em> Fadewalker </em>
</p><p>By the time Sia bustled back into the store, Anders had almost given up on her return. She now bore an oddly wrapped bundle sticking out of a wicker basket, and she thrust the entire thing into his hands. “Come. I’ve a place where we can get ale and a meal and not be bothered.”</p><p>He fumbled with the basket, a baffled look on his face. “I was just going to take us to The Pearl. I know a few people there.”</p><p>Sia grinned. “Would one of them be a buxom pirate?”</p><p>That made Anders laugh. “Of course you know Isabela.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p><br/>They did wind up at The Pearl. Sia had secured them a private room with a slip of gold and a wink to the proprietor. Isabela, unfortunately, was not there, having sailed on for warmer waters. But as they passed through the main hall and into their quarters, Anders threw a gaze full of longing at a shadowy corner. “She throws the <em> best </em> parties.”</p><p>Sia chuckled and closed the door behind them. Candles flared to life with a flick of her wrist, throwing deep shadows across the room. Anders triple checked all the corners and drawers for any magic; upon finding none, he pointed to the basket. “What’s this?”</p><p>“Some clothes, dried foodstuffs. A few bottles of ale.”</p><p>He raised an eyebrow at her. “Woe be the poor former Warden, then is it?”</p><p>She shook her head. “I see someone who hasn’t eaten enough and needs clothes better suited for the oncoming spring.”</p><p>“It’s charity.”</p><p>Sia shrugged. “Call it what you will. But you can’t tell me that cloak is helping against the rain.”</p><p>He sighed and began pulling out the items. The cloak was quite nice - dark blue, heavy, with long sleeves and a wide hood. He would make good use of this, even if he protested its origins. “It’s appreciated. I’m just tired. And apparently rather grouchy, all the time.” Anders flopped down into a large wingback chair and ran his hand through his matted hair. “So you want the sob story?”</p><p>Sia studied him for a long beat. “No. I’m curious about one thing.”</p><p>“Just one?”</p><p>“Why leave the Wardens?”</p><p>Anders knew she was serious - her face told him that much - but it was such an absurd question he barked out a laugh. “It’s a death sentence.”</p><p>She shrugged, oddly nonchalant about his statement. “Leaving the Wardens doesn’t change the Taint in our blood. Once a Warden, always a Warden.”</p><p>“I’m trying to change that.”</p><p>Sia gave him a sharp look. “Truly?”</p><p>“A lot of old magics have been lost. And the Fade holds secrets. There may be a way. I never put anything out of arm’s reach when it comes to the Fade.” He kept his tone light, waiting to see her reaction.  </p><p>“Dangerous, even for such an experiment,” she mused, tapping her chin in thought. “But this is assuming you have a way there outside of our dreams.”</p><p>That made him grin, sharp and unrelenting. “Trade secret, I’m afraid.” He pointed a finger at her chest. “But you’re carrying a spark of that same energy with you, so it’s easier than you think. Or what the Circle has taught you.” Anders was silent for a long moment. “But my research is ongoing. I’m actually headed north, toward the Free Marches. I’ll write if I find anything about your little passenger.”</p><p>She huffed a dry laugh. “That’s if it doesn’t kill me right after we handle the Archdemon.”</p><p>“You’re useful to it. Stay useful until you can find a way out.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his bony knees. “Did you reach out to it, or did it find you?”</p><p>
  <em> Flames licked up the curtains and Sia screamed in panic and fear, feeling those flames kiss her skin. But later, in the dark of the cellar with just a lantern to guide her, she saw no burn marks, no soot on her body. That was the first night she heard something other than her own sniffles and the rapid beat of her heart.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ah, child. It will get better.” </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> The day before the Landsmeet </em>
</p><p>“Eamon’s spies are good,” Leliana said over a new batch of reports a runner had dropped off. “Loghain remains holed up in the Arl’s fortress but since we didn’t take his bait to go ‘rescue’ his daughter, we’ve thrown a bit of a rat in the stew.”</p><p>“Rats in the stew are for flavor,” Sten said as he ran a whetstone over the blade of his axe. There was a moment’s pause, and then he continued. “This is some saying we don’t have in the Qun, isn’t it.”</p><p>Oghren slapped Sten on the back with a loud guffaw. “You’re catchin’ on, ya big lunk! Good on ya!”</p><p>Alistair turned to the remaining party huddled around the massive oak table in Eamon’s dining hall. The doors were shut against prying ears and eyes and the fire roared. The table was set with a lavish meal. </p><p><em> Hopefully not the last one </em>, Alistair had joked as they sat down.</p><p><em> It won’t be </em>, Sia had said in return. Riordan, the Warden they’d rescued from Arl Howe’s dungeon, was making his own preparations for the oncoming fights. He was going to remain on the sidelines at the Landsmeet, but his warnings about a price to pay to destroy the Archdemon rang in both their ears. And despite their insistence, he was determined to remain mum on the topic until after Alistair won the Landsmeet. </p><p>Riordan had said it as if it were truth, and already decided. But now Alistair was looking at Sia over stacks of parchment and well-worn battlemaps with a determined air that hadn’t been there even two days ago. On a whim, she stood and motioned for Alistair to follow. Zevran smiled at them both and then turned back to whatever Morrigan was saying about vials of acid and fire-tipped arrows.</p><p>Sia wound through a couple of halls before finding an empty study, then shut the door behind them. “So, you’ve made a decision.”</p><p>Alistair fussed with the silver-threaded scrollwork on his tunic for a moment before answering. “I think I did a long time ago. But we were always moving or fighting or stuck in the Deep Roads for weeks.” He sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “I heard what you said, what Eamon said. I swear I was listening. I just needed to get there in my own time.” He chuckled, the sound without levity. “I went from bastard to orphan to failed Templar to Warden. I never thought the line would end in King.”</p><p>Sia wrapped her arms around him, eliciting a surprised <em> oof </em>, but he reciprocated the hug quickly. “I never had a doubt,” she said, slightly muffled by his tunic.</p><p>“Ha, well….I did. Still do.” Alistair rested his cheek on the top of her head.</p><p>“If you didn’t, I’d be worried.” She looked up and ran a finger over the line of buttons on his shirt. “Overconfidence tends to destroy.”</p><p>“Like Cailan.”</p><p>“And Loghain. He thinks it’s settled before it’s even begun.” Sia gave him a savage smile. “He clearly doesn’t know who he’s up against.”</p><p>“And I guess if it all goes wrong then we just fight our way out?”</p><p>“Sounds like a plan to me.”</p><p>Alistair squeezed her tightly, taking comfort in her soft warmth and the smell of citrus in her hair. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for believing in me.”</p><p>Sia blinked furiously against the knot that formed in her chest at his painfully honest tone. “I….Alistair. You are my dearest friend, and you’ll be one hell of a king. We’ll get through this, together.”</p><p>He gaped at her. “Are you crying?”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>He poked her cheek with a finger. “Yes, yes you are!”</p><p>She poked him back, but in the ribs. “Well, you don’t have to crow about it for the entire manor to hear!” Two pink spots appeared high on her cheeks and she bit her lip. “Shush!”</p><p>Something <em> sparked </em> behind his eyes, a wicked kind of gleam that promised rough hands and kisses that bit. “Make me.”</p><p>“You have been around Zevran too much.”</p><p>“Well, he did nearly split me in half the other night.”</p><p>“No, that was me.”</p><p>Alistair frowned. “Am I remembering a dream?”</p><p>Sia couldn’t keep the grin off her face. “If you asked him, he’d do it. I recall a very vivid description of exactly what he wanted to do to you and it involved a lot of oil and you on your hands and knees.”</p><p>He lowered his forehead to hers. “Maker help me.” At Sia’s snort, he laughed. “You two are possibly the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me.” He gave her a curious look. “You know, kings are allowed to have consorts…”</p><p>“Funny,” she said, her voice liquid, her finger tracing those buttons with just enough pressure for him to feel. “Zevran was just saying the same thing this morning.”</p><p>“Wait, really?”</p><p>She didn’t resist the urge to give his shoulder a friendly smack. “Yes! It’s sex, Alistair, and fucking great sex at that.”</p><p>“And Wardens are sterile so it’s not like they’re expecting an heir.”</p><p>“That too.”  Her brown eyes searched his face. “That doesn’t bother you?”</p><p>Alistair felt no hesitation, no regret as he replied, “Not a bit. Plus who is to say an heir would be a good leader? Seems a bit risky, hoping your genetic offspring isn’t a little shit or completely starkers.” He cast a glance about the room. “Nothing’s a guarantee.”</p><p>They were quiet for a moment, caught up in their own minds but still very aware of their bodies touching. “Sia? Alistair?”</p><p>Zevran’s voice on the other side of the door shook them from reverie, and Sia flicked a hand at the door. It opened to reveal Zevran leaning casually against the frame, a coy smile about his lips. “Designs on <em> mi amor </em>? Unhand her, you cad!”</p><p>Sia raised an eyebrow at Zevran but Alistair shaking in silent laughter behind her clued her in. “Oh, I get it.” She whirled on her fellow Warden. “Are you two wanting to play a game, then?”</p><p>Alistair shrugged, but his fingers clenching her waist told her everything. “We’ve a few hours before Riordan comes back.”</p><p>Zevran clucked at the two of them, shutting the door in one swift motion. “What naughty Wardens, caught together in an unoccupied room, and without a proper bed.” He put a dramatic hand to his chest. “Scandalous.”</p><p>He lunged for Sia and she let him catch her by the hips, dragging her forward and into a ruthless kiss. Zevran knew every catch, button, and clasp on her clothes and it was the work of seconds to make her doublet fall to the floor. Her breath hitched as Alistair’s hands met Zevran’s on her waist, their fingers linking to form a cage around her. Rough palms with callused fingertips skimmed her body, leaving no part of her revealed skin untouched. She felt too hot already, like something was threatening to burst inside her and she squirmed against them.</p><p>“Our plan, <em> mi amor </em>,” Zevran said in her ear as he ran a fingertip around her nipple, “was to tease you until you begged, then haul you back to Alistair’s room and not let you leave until you were fucked out.”</p><p>Sia sucked in a breath, her gut clenching in a sudden, stoked fire of need. “<em> Andraste’s tits </em>. You two are going to kill me.” She tipped Zevran’s chin up with a finger, his wicked slash of a smile making her groan. “You came up with this?”</p><p>“No.” Alistair whispered the one word in her ear before biting down on her earlobe. “I did.”</p><hr/><p>The temptation to stay in the little study and fuck on the rickety desk was damn near impossible to leave behind, but with Sia half buttoned back into her clothes, they snuck back to Alistair’s room. The one guard they encountered had enough self-preservation instinct to turn around as soon as she spotted them. It made Alistair snicker, watching that guard’s wide eyes take in the sight of two rumpled Wardens and the elf everyone whispered about.</p><p>By the time they collapsed into Alistair’s rooms, all three were laughing, sagging against each other while fingers wandered, plucking at buttons and pulling at hems. Zevran threw the bolt, spun, and pushed Alistair against the door in one fluid movement.</p><p>Alistair hit the door with a thump but Zevran’s hand was there to cradle his skull. Had Zevran grown taller? He swore the elf was shorter but pressed between a hard, hot body and an unforgiving piece of wood, Alistair felt small. </p><p>“The plan,” he moaned as Zevran sucked a mark into the thin skin over his pulse. </p><p>Zevran spun again, pressing his back against Alistair’s chest (and hammering heart and straining lungs), pulling one of Alistair’s hands around his tight waist. Alistair sought out Zevran’s clothed erection and as he did, Zevran pushed the crack of his ass up against him.</p><p>“Oh fuck,” Alistair said, his voice almost unrecognizable with need.</p><p>Zevran pushed back again, a test of friction. Even through all their layers, Alistair felt the heat of him. Zev looped an arm around Alistair’s neck, pulling his gaze down. He’d been so caught up in how Zevran felt (tight and hot and unyielding in all the right places, soft in all the others) and how he smelled (leather and oil and some kind of spice that stuck to the other man’s hair and skin….or maybe that was just Zevran’s skin, that smell); he missed Sia dropping her clothes to the floor and sitting buck naked in the velvet wingback chair by the fire.</p><p>“No plan survives a run in with that woman.” Zevran’s voice was a bit higher, thready even, like he was barely holding on to some semblance of control as he rutted his ass against Alistair’s iron-hard cock. The room was warming up, but her beautiful breasts belied the cold, and her interest. The flare of her hips against the arms of the chair, the porcelain-honey warmth of her skin against the blue velvet? Gorgeous. But she had pulled her lower lip between her teeth while watching them, worrying an indent that flushed red; the red of her hair, the red of the haze of lust settling over their eyes, spiraling tight, <em> tight </em> circles of need in their bodies.</p><p>She shifted slightly and with a devastating smile, put one heel on the seat of the chair. They could see the glisten of her folds from their spot against the door.</p><p>Alistair wasn’t sure who sighed, he or Zevran, but Alistair bucked against Zevran’s ass, making the other man moan. Zevran pressed even harder against Alistair’s cock,  his voice a growl as he said, “Beautiful.”</p><p>Without a word, but the smirk on her face knowing beyond a doubt, Sia tipped her head back. Her blood was on fire, and she’d done little more than get naked. It’s not like neither of them had seen her before; and Zevran knew <em> every inch </em> of her. Especially the tiny spot that made her moan and keen and whine and dig her nails into his back. But she wanted to share that with them both. Here. Now. She wanted to watch them watching her.</p><p>She wanted to watch those beautiful boys fuck each other until they were slumped and sated and coated in each other spend, the harsh rasp of their moans and the slick pop of her fingers sliding in and out of her cunt the only sounds in the room.</p><p>She let her fingers feel, skating over her chest, flicking around and against a peaked nipple. Sia heard the door creak as they sagged against it, but she also saw Alistair’s fingers grip Zevran’s hip, a vise made of skin and bones and steel.</p><p>“Continue with what you were doing,” she said with a wave of her free hand. “I want to watch.” And she twisted her nipple, making her hips buck up in response.</p><p>Zevran let loose a string of Antivan curses so colorful Sia only caught half of what he said. “We’d best do what the lady wants, my friend,” he said, reaching around to again pull Alistair’s head down.</p><p>“Like this?” Alistair planted a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along Zevran’s neck. Zevran’s eyes fluttered shut, his jaw going slack as he reveled in the lips and tongue exploring his skin. He didn’t try to stifle the little moan that escaped him, much to Alistair’s delight. Alistair hummed against him, greedy for more. </p><p>Sia’s gasp drew their attentions again. “Clothes <em> off </em>, darlings.”</p><p>Alistair wasn’t sure who first yanked which piece of clothing off, but he and Zevran’s fumblings with catches and buckles and buttons quickly devolved into one more excuse to brush fingertips over collarbones or suck marks taut flesh. Zevran’s body was quickly bared before him and he didn’t wait for the other man to crowd him against the door and press his hard, weeping cock into his belly. Alistair’s hands went under Zevran’s thighs and he scooped him up as though the elf weighed nothing.</p><p>Sia sighed and finally <em> finally </em> let her hand wander past her hips, fingers brushing over her sopping wet folds. Alistair froze just before depositing Zevran on the bed, his gaze transfixed on Sia. Zevran took the opportunity to motion Sia to them; she did so, but not before pouting at them both. “Just when I was having fun.”</p><p>Zevran tumbled out of Alistair’s arms, yanking the Warden down with him, making Alistair let out a strangled groan as their bodies collided. As though magic propelled her, Sia slipped in beside them, but kept her hands to herself as she watched them kiss and fondle each other. Their kisses had teeth, biting and nipping, but when Zevran licked inside Alistair’s mouth, Alistair crumpled, his face going slack with raw, honest need.</p><p>“I think Alistair could use some of your….talent, Zev,” Sia panted. When Zevran looked up, he saw with delighted glee that she had two fingers inside her, her other hand cupping her breast. Her breathing was uneven, punctuated by little gasps and whines as she pleasured herself. Zevran felt Alistair freeze beside him and give a moan like it was punched out of him. </p><p>“I want -“ Alistair shook his head, eyes glassy with lust.</p><p>Zevran took the chance to dig his fingers into Alistair’s hair, pulling the other man’s head back so their eyes met. “What do you want, Alistair?” He purred, nuzzling Alistair’s throat before setting his teeth into the delicate skin just above his collarbone. “Tell me.”</p><p>“I dont...I don’t know,” Alistair gasped, his grip on Zevran’s hips tightening almost painfully. </p><p>“Ah, you feel that tight, tight coil of lust, yes? It’s like heat in your belly, and it makes you keen and moan and whine so beautifully.” Sia gasped again, the slick sound of her fingers speeding up, and the bed moved as her hips pumped along with the rhythm of her hand.  “Sia knows what she likes, and what she doesn’t.” He bit down, harder this time, letting Alistair feel the scrape and sting of his teeth. Alistair bucked against him, gasping. “Show me what you want, Alistair.”</p><p>With a toss of his head, Alistair hauled Zevran down for a kiss that bruised, one hand sliding between them. The shadows hid Sia’s line of sight, but from the way Zevran jerked in Alistair’s grasp, his spine a beautiful, perfect arch, she knew Alistair had his fist around Zevran’s gorgeous cock.</p><p>“I want,” Alistair whispered into Zevran’s hair, “to make her come as you fuck me.”</p><hr/><p>Hours later, Sia let the boys sleep while she wandered the halls. The quiet clank and shuffle of distant guards patrolling, the flicker and sputter of torches on the walls. She wound around the turrets and descended stairs on silent feet. Not a Warden, or a mage. Not a savior or haunted woman.</p><p>She simply existed. </p><p>Every life she touched, every village she saved or damned, every person who witnessed her magic saw a facet of who she was. But in the months of travel and fighting, from the depths of the Deep Roads to the sun-dappled branches of the Brecilian forest, and every mile walked in between, she became something else. She did not know who she was, or who she would become, but in the long, quiet hours while everyone rested, Sia breathed freely for the first time.</p><p>She rounded the next corner, letting her fingers trail over cold stone, feeling the wall’s grit and divets, its pits and scars. The stone here had life and history, and she could have spent hours cataloging every mark, such was the fascination it held over her. She’d never had the time or chance to contemplate the banal, and now she found it mildly ironic that, the night before a new fate was decided for the land, she sourced fascination from a stone wall.</p><p>The hooded figure at the hall’s end shook her from her reverie. It turned to her, face still hidden in the depths of its cloak. But the hand it held out to her looked human enough.</p><p>“We should speak.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Come.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The green-grey energy of the Fade spun out from the figure’s fingertip, and like a ripple in a pond, a portal formed where it touched the air beside it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Curiosity warred with caution inside her chest, but Sia knew she needed to follow them. Something sparked deep within her - a desire to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It may be her undoing. And the only thing keeping her feet rooted to the ground was the unyielding pull of duty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The figure sighed. “You’re beset by concern over returning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia inclined her head. “I have unfinished business here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Business you may not get to complete if you do not understand what is happening elsewhere.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pretty vague for a hooded being that provides me with power to heal my friends, and then leaves me screaming in the night.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The portal snapped closed with a flick of their wrist. “Then we shall stay here.” They reached up and pushed the hood down. “And to be fair to both of us, it’s not always me. I am not….whole.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia narrowed her eyes. The elf looked pretty whole to her. He was tall and gaunt, but there was a ferocity in his face that made her shiver. The sharp edges of his cheekbones, the point of his chin, the exaggerated length of his ears, all topped off with a shock of pure black hair that hung over one eye. The eye she could see was bright green and pupil-less. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean you no harm,” he said. “I come bearing a gift. And a warning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The distant clank of armor on stone drew both of their gazes down the long hallway. “Put your hood back up,” she hissed as she moved to stand at their side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf smiled grimly. “They won’t see us, if you’re worried.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia restrained her huff of annoyance and followed the strange figure as he glided down the hall. After several silent moments, she finally said, “What is this about?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You, Fadewalker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way he said it - like a term of endearment - made her scowl. “I don’t know what that means.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No? I would have thought someone near you smart enough to puzzle it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia bit the inside of her cheek. “So what, more word games until you finally tell me what this is all about, or do I have to yell for the guards?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf stopped, an abrupt halt to their smooth gait. “I know it is an idle threat, but not a smart one.” Power curled around one fist and Sia felt it like breath on the back of her neck. A headache loomed over the horizon, threatening to barrel down on her like stormclouds over the plains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Predator. Prey.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She held her hands up. “Fine. Play your games. But I want answers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The power receded, and with it, the pressure in her head. But her neck still prickled uncomfortably. “And you will have them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He led her to the nearby balcony, the one that overlooked the vast gardens. Now cloaked in inky darkness and a slight breeze that promised one more snow, the rows of blossoming winter cabbages and hardy elfroot could barely be seen. Hands on the stone railing, the elf turned to look at her. “We first met years ago, when you were just a child,” he said by way of beginning. “Do you remember much about that night?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Flames licking up the curtains. Her screams and sobs. Her father rushing in and instead of hauling her to safety, yelling at her for being a stain on the bloodline before putting out the fire and throwing her into the hallway. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Her confusion. The stink of smoke and fear. His fear, and hers. Her mother’s wails as she came down the hall and saw the aftermath; the sudden shock dropping her mother to her knees as she keened.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Zayd charging out of his room, half dressed and mussed from whatever liaison he’d just come back from. Her other siblings staring at her, confused and horrified.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Then the cold of the cellar eating into her skin through her thin nightshirt. Tears that left her face tacky. And nothing but water and bread for three days until a large man in armor hauled her out of the basement, threw her into a wagon with six other children, and she was taken from the only home she’d ever known. For months, the smell of lavender made her vomit, and remembering golden wheat fields made her cry uncontrollably.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Warmth settled on her hand, like a touch. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia jumped back as if burned. “Did you just….see my memory?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The elf shook his head. “I borrowed it, only for a moment.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hot rush of anger made her ball her fists against the railing. “Like you borrowed my body the other day? The previous month?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah. That’s the crux of it. You and I first met when you were a child, then on and off again through your mage training. But you also met my twin. He was the one who killed the Crow, not me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia gaped at him. “Your twin? You have to be fucking kidding me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hardly.” The hood came down again, and he brushed his hair out of his face. The hidden eye was nothing but an empty socket, its black depths endless and spiraling. “We’ve been separated for eons, since the fall of Elvhenan. I am the calm, and he is the storm.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flickered to life in her memory - a rush of wind, a voice in her ear, a warm hand at her back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He will come to you and say you are chosen, you are a Fadewalker. And while he does not lie, he will hide things from you. He will teach you control, but lock away your most precious gift and deny it to you. Do not let him. When the time comes, let me in.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who are you?” she whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You may call me Revas,” he replied, clasping his hands behind his back. “It means freedom.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And your twin?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He rocked back on his heels for a moment, an oddly human, mundane gesture that made something twist in her gut. Whatever this creature was, it was not human. Or mortal. Sia knew only surface history of the elves, and even less about the ancient ones; the Circle hadn’t much on the subject, and she was hesitant to trust books written by humans about a time, place, and people to which they’d not bore witness. Especially since humans had caused so much destruction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nan.” Now Revas turned to stare at her with that one bright green eye. “It means vengeance.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Bile rose in her throat, hot and acidic and she coughed to rid herself of the taste. “Nan killed Taliesen. Nan showed me how to wield my power.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something flashed across the elf’s face. Annoyance, perhaps? “It was not all him.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You pointed me at the foci, in the forest.” This was all too convenient, too easy; the puzzle pieces locking together like they’d always been there, just waiting for her to finish the picture. He was offering her surface answers. Ripples in a pond. What lurked beneath would have teeth and claws and Sia realized it could all end so very badly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And on the hill, in my dreams?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nodded. “That was me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her knuckles bled white as her grip on the railing tightened. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Revas stilled. “Because I knew once I reached out, he would as well. We are never far from each other, and we know what the other does.” He held up a finger to stop her angry protest. “And if I’d done nothing, you would have become a meal to the things that lurk in the Fade. Your natural abilities were raw and untested, and you were pushing on boundaries even as a small child. The Veil does not like intruders. It would have ripped you apart and tossed you into its waiting maw.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia stared out at the dark garden. Her thoughts tumbled together like debris on the roadside, but the one that rose to the top had no inclinations towards forward concern. “I’m duty bound to fight the Archdemon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Revas gave her a curious look, his lips tipped up ever so slightly. “Fight, but not defeat?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not confident it can be defeated.” The moment she spoke those words, she deflated. “Maybe it can be but everything we’ve done, every ally we’ve gathered….against </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She shook her head. “I just don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It can, and you will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia scoffed. “You can see the future, on top of everything else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He did touch her now, a gentle palm on her arm. “Do you wish my help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you help me defeat the Archdemon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” The hand on her arm tightened. A warning. “But it comes with a cost, and choosing me means forsaking Nan - his assistance now, and in the future. Perhaps you should speak to him before deciding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sia’s brow furrowed. She sensed she wouldn’t like the answer to the next question. “And how do I do that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The words fled her lips, and as they did, there was a sudden lurch in her chest; as though a hand had wrapped itself around her heart. “As I said,” Revas replied quietly, that one green eye fixed on her. “We know what the other does. If I had to guess, he was waiting for your call. I’ll be near. Watching.” He stepped back into the shadows then, again becoming mist and smoke like she’d seen before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Two halves of a whole. They can’t exist in the same place at the same time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Sia thought. She knew this was likely stupid and dangerous, but some part of her was fascinated. What was he - they? Had Revas and Nan been one whole person at a time? Were they two parts of a fractured consciousness? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As Revas faded, Nan stepped forward. One green eye, a shock of black hair, and a smirking mouth greeted her. He was Revas’ scarred, handsome twin. Where Revas was tall and lean, Nan was built like a fighter, ropey muscle revealed by his sleeveless gambeson and tight pants. The scars weren’t from swords and axes, though; they looked deliberate, almost delicate. Like carvings in flesh, their meanings impossible and ephemeral.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After another taste?” he said, stepping forward into the flickering torchlight. “Glad you had enough sense to speak with me before jumping off the cliff with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Nan spat the last word like it befouled his mouth. “I’m the better choice, anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you say,” Sia replied, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grinned at her, and she caught sight of fangs. “So I say.”</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>The snoring man beside Zevran refused to move. Zevran cracked one eye open to stare beseechingly at Alistair’s broad, tanned back, then sighed. “Alistair,” he whispered, “we are missing someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Alistair snuffled, muttered something unintelligible, and rolled over, flinging a heavy arm over Zevran’s waist. “She’ll be back,” he slurred.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran wasn’t going to say it, but Alistair was wrong. Sia </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> told him when she was getting up, even if she didn’t think he was awake. But the other, more difficult thing to communicate was a strange sensation deep in the pit of his stomach. He could not explain it, nor trace its source, but he felt something was wrong. Perhaps after months of companionship and romance, he had simply gained the extraordinary sense that lovers sometimes did when the other was away, but it nagged at him nonetheless.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He managed to slip free of Alistair’s grip, smiling fondly when the Warden snuggled into Zevran’s pillow and breathed deeply. Zevran ran a soothing hand over Alistair’s bare arm. With quick motions, he threw on clothes and strapped a dagger to his belt, then ducked into the dark hallway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eamon’s estate was large enough to get lost in during the day, but at night, the walls closed in and the air somehow felt thicker. Torches sputtered in the chill wind and the guards made a lazy, almost somnibular rotation around the grounds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran’s first inclination was to head to the balcony overlooking the gardens. Sia had wandered there a few times already, that slightly hazy expression on her face when she was lost in thought or worried. And she’d been much more of the latter lately. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d taken to brushing his hand down her spine whenever they were near each other. Just a touch, a reaffirmation of his presence and his affection; she seemed to take more comfort in his touch now, as though he could make her worries vanish. She never once leaned away from his gesture. Not when he did it while laying in bed after the Crow attack. Not when he’d been forgiven but she still had every right to withhold from him. And not after their first time together, as Leliana slept beside them but they were awake, their hands smoothing over fire-warmed skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran paused before rounding the corner to the garden overlook. He could hear Sia speaking in a low tone, and the reply was in an unknown male voice. One that sounded like gravel under cart wheels, more rumble than voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“After another taste? Glad you had enough sense to speak with me before jumping off the cliff with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” A pause. I’m the better choice, anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you say.” Zevran didn’t miss the snark in Sia’s voice and he smiled, despite the way his heart pounded in his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So I say.” The other voice chuckled, a slithery sound that made Zevran wish he’d brought another dagger. “I know Revas’ appeal. All logic and stalwartness, with just a tinge of tragic hero backstory. Makes maidens and warriors alike swoon for sure. But Revas will draw you a line in the sand, and warn you not to cross it.” Zevran heard Sia suck in a breath. “I, however, don’t believe in ultimatums.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had to look. He had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Zevran’s gut was screaming at him to stay away, to stick to the shadows and observe. But that was Crow training - waiting, lingering, then striking at the opportune moment. He used to thrive on the unknown and unexpected, but his ways and inclinations were slowly bleeding out and being tempered by forward-thinking caution. He used to dive off roofs and take on groups of enemies single-handedly; fearless and stupid in equal measure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he understood fear now. Because of her. Because losing her would kill him faster than any knife or poison. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Zevran took a deep breath and peered around the corner.</span>
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <span>Sia would not be cowed by the being standing mere feet from here. “I’m assuming all this looming is supposed to intimidate me,” she sniped, refusing to move away from the pillar she was leaning against.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nan barked a laugh, a grin of fiendish delight spreading over his face. “See! This is why I picked you. That lovely stubborn head and quick tongue.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A flash of unease roiled through her, but she simply cocked her head and replied, “But I didn’t pick </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, but you did.” Nan motioned to her with his hand. “Well, your magic did. It reached out when you were just a tiny thing setting fire to the curtains in your parents’ estate. And when it reached out, it found me. Us. But I responded, and Revas didn’t have a choice but to tag along.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That sounds like an exhausting existence, always being split.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nan shrugged, the immaculate black furs around his shoulders glinting with starlight and Fade magic as he moved. “We manage. I do not detest him so much.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And how does he find you, I wonder?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nan’s fangs grinned at her through full lips. “Barely tolerable.” He stepped forward again, now crowding her against the stone pillar. He was over a head taller than her, and the sheer enormity of his presence made her feel small.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not unlike a child staring at a giant. The meaning was not lost on her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t make deals with demons,” Sia said, her words quiet but the conviction behind them iron-clad. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nan laughed, and Sia swore the air around them sparked. “Oh my darling little mage, I am no demon.” He leaned down, his hair brushing her cheek. It was more intimate than an actual touch, and yet she shivered against him. “I made the Fade.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Discussions of memory magic within</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sia awoke in her bed the next morning with a dry mouth and a strange feeling of dread weighing her down. She remembered….</p><p>Her memory was blank after meeting both Revas and Nan. Why take the rest of their conversation from her? She now knew they existed, had names, and knew they were, somehow, deeply connected to the Fade. What happened that made one or both of them steal that from her?</p><p>She focused, digging through the empty chambers of her mind to find something to latch onto. Nothing. Sia’s stomach churned with anger and a sourer note - a violation. That’s what it was. Powerful, magical beings taking from mortals simply because they could.</p><p>Someone had changed something. She was as sure as anything that her mind had been invaded. Sia wanted to throw up, to vomit out the influence and regain that which had been taken. She grounded herself in the feel of the sheets around her body, the warm skin under her hand.</p><p>Zevran was beside her, his face tucked into her neck, his breathing deep and even. But Alistair was already up and dressed. He was staring out the window and his posture screamed of anxiety. She’d never seen him stand so rigidly. She pushed aside her fear over the blank spot in her memory to call his name.</p><p>“Alistair?”</p><p>He gave her a brief smile. “Tell me it’ll be all right.”</p><p>Sia blinked slowly, struggling to slip out from underneath Zevran’s slumbering weight and only partially succeeding. The elf grumbled something and tried to tug her back down but she shushed him with a gentle hand in his hair. </p><p>But before she could answer - and truly, she didn’t know <em> how </em> to answer - he said, “It’s okay. I guess I’m just looking for some certainty.” He turned back to the window, hands now clasped behind his back. “But I do know that we’ll be ready. Loghain will be.”</p><p>“Our allies are lined up and ready to represent their holdings on the Wardens’ behalf. Eamon’s going to play his part, and we’ll play ours.” Sia scratched at Zevran’s scalp as he shifted under the covers. “I wish I had answers for you, Alistair. I truly do.”</p><p>Alistair was silent for several long minutes, his jaw working as he wrestled with something in his mind. “Stay by me,” he said softly, his words whispering out into a cloud of fog that coated the windowpane. “Please.”</p><p>“No matter what,” she promised. </p><hr/><p>“You’ve lost, Loghain,” Sia said calmly. The crowd around and above them was silent, waiting with anxiety and frustration to finally watch Loghain lay down arms in surrender. His few supporters had already begun to pick their way to the exits, but as they were nobles and not spies, they were terribly obvious.</p><p>“I’ve not lost yet,” Loghain spat, eyes wild, almost feral in how they rolled in his skull. “If Alistair wishes to be king, then it’ll be through single combat to prove his worth.”</p><p>A roar of dismay went up from the crowd but Alistair only steeled his jaw and nodded once. Agreement.</p><p>Sia’s heart sank. They’d seen Loghain fight - he was ruthless and efficient, a sweeping arc of bladed death that wasn’t afraid to fight dirty when necessary. She froze, conflicted, even as Eamon stepped forward to officiate. Of course there were rules for such things, she thought grimly as she watched Loghain’s daughter wring her hands convincingly and dab at tears she squeezed from her eyes. But she doubted Loghain would stick to the rules. And Alistair absolutely would abide them. Likely to his death.</p><p>Alistair was suddenly looming over her, eyes bright as he steered her to a private corner. The rest of their companions followed and she was dimly aware of Zevran’s hand in hers, of Leliana’s comforting touch on her shoulder. <em> Why are they holding me up? Alistair is the one who has to fight Loghain. </em></p><p>“We could just kill him and his guards,” Morrigan said to no one in particular, but even her voice was quiet. </p><p>“You’d start a riot,” Wynne said, worry creasing her face. </p><p>While they talked, Loghain snarled at the edges of the makeshift dueling ring, his lieutenant holding him back. Eamon shot them a look filled with the silent message: <em> Hurry </em>.</p><p>“Rightfully Alistair has already been declared the winner by the Landsmeet. The duel is to soothe Loghain’s ego,” Leliana said, not bothering to speak quietly. When she did lower her voice, it was to say, “You could ask them to haul Loghain away in chains now, Alistair, and avoid this bloodshed.”</p><p>Sia put a hand on his arm. “She’s right, Alistair. If something happens to you in a duel with Loghain -“</p><p>“You’re right.” Alistair shot a look back to Loghain, scorn marring his face. “And if we’re lucky he’ll resist and I’ll get to kill him anyways.”</p><p>The crowd stilled once again as Alistair stalked toward the middle of the room. Sia stepped forward as well with a gesture to the others to be ready. “Loghain, your rule is forfeit as voted by the Landsmeet. The Wardens are now in control. As such, you will be taken to the dungeons below Fort Drakon and await your sentence.”</p><p>“No, I will not! You will fight, and you will die by my hand!” Loghain rushed forward, sword out. A blur of armor and rage barreled toward Alistair. The nobles around them scattered, while their seneschals stood, conflicted on what to do. Sia and the others ran forward to protect Alistair.</p><p>
  <em> This is getting interesting, little spark. You didn’t tell me all these juicy details last night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I suppose I should step in. Loghain will kill your Warden and then the Archdemon will win and we can’t have that. </em>
</p><p>Sia heard his voice, saw his visage shimmer at the edges of her consciousness, but it was only as a spectator. She still carried forward, staff outstretched as she pulled a shield around Alistair to protect him from that first, fatal blow.</p><p>Time slowed. Then stopped.</p><p>Nan stood beside Loghain, watching his sword arc through the air. It would land at the weak point in Alistair’s armor and cut through, straight down to his neck. “You could have rewritten your fate, Loghain,” Nan tutted, shaking his head sadly. “You could have gone away in chains, planned your revenge, escaped, and then attacked the Wardens in camp. You would have died, but at least it wouldn’t have been in shame.” He wrinkled his nose and flicked a hand at Loghain. “What a pity.”</p><p>And then time sped back up.</p><p>A burst of green energy overwhelmed Loghain, blowing him back almost fifty feet. Straight into the wall. The resounding crash shattered timber and rent armor, leaving the warrior and once regent of Fereden in a crumpled, broken heap on the ground. Loghain’s soldiers crowded around him as his lieutenant and daughter pushed them aside.</p><p>Alistair turned to Sia, stunned. “He’s dead.” </p><hr/><p>Every witness, from the nobles of the far reaches of Ferelden to Eamon to even Zevran, swore Alistair had struck true after deflecting Loghain’s sword. They all saw the same thing - Loghain brought his sword down, intending on cleaving Alistair’s head from his neck, and in a burst of strength and righteous anger, Alistair blocked the blow, which shattered his shield. He then charged forward, drove Loghain into the wall, and cut him down with a massive strike, treating his longsword like a two-handed weapon.</p><p>Alistair was stunned, likely in shock after the bubble of adrenaline burst, but he stared at Loghain’s broken body then down at his hands as if he couldn’t believe he’d been capable of such a feat.</p><p>Loghain was defeated. Alistair would rule from the Ferelden throne, taking on Eamon and Sia as advisors. And Sia would be Warden General.</p><p>“Balance restored. Ah, who doesn’t love a happy ending?”</p><p>Sia closed her eyes as that silk-smooth voice curled in her ear. “Don’t you think you’ve messed with everyone’s minds enough for a day?”</p><p>The muscular form of Nan rippled into view, close enough to Sia to touch. She was standing outside under a blossoming apple tree, and had been until moments ago, blissfully alone. It’d only been hours since Loghain was killed and in that time, she’d gotten the same story from dozens of people at the Landsmeet. </p><p>That’s when she knew, for certain, it had been Nan’s doing. Or Revas. Or whoever or whatever the fuck they wanted to be called. Between this and the memory violation of the previous night, she was seeing everything in a red haze of anger and mistrust. </p><p>Nan shrugged, his black fur cloak moving with him. She noticed it was no longer a ratty half-cloak; its hem touched the floor and was trimmed in dark brown and orange. Fox, likely, or some similar creature. “I simply adjusted the timeline and the events wherein. Surely you can’t object to the outcome.”</p><p>She whirled, pointing a finger into his chest. “You took from me. You took from them. Agreeable outcome or not, you cannot mess in the lives of mortals just because it amuses you!”</p><p>Nan studied her then, head cocked like a dog with a question. His gaze scraped her raw in one sweep, and when he brought that bright green orb of an eye back up to her face, she saw something flash within.</p><p>It rushed back - the final pieces of her conversation with him, his revelation that he <em> and </em> Revas had made the Fade, and that was what split them. That he was Sleep Immortal, the original Dreamer, He Who Walks Between Worlds And Conquers All. </p><p>
  <em> “And about a billion other names,” he said softly, circling her. “The first Elves called us Januson, The Two-Faced. The Peace and The Dark. The Truth and The Trick. It was how they explained the immemorial truth of dreams, and the raw fear of nightmares.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Sia saw it then, as he shared a flicker of it - elves dreaming, elves waking in the fever sweat of nightmares. They were test subjects for what would become the Fade. The injustices and crimes against Elves had started with them and would set forth a pattern that continued to now. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why make the Fade?” Sia could barely hear her own words for the thunder of her heart in her chest. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Nan shrugged, but it was a mockery of a careless gesture. “That was our agreement. We would make the Fade and that would allow mortals access to magic. The others wouldn’t allow it elsewise. The world then was full of magic, fit to bursting, my little spark. Imagine stepping outside and tasting the magic of the sunrise. Feeling and seeing magic in a single leaf. In every leaf, in every petal, in every feather of a bird’s wing.” Nan looked sad then and Sia felt that in her gut like it was her own emotion. It hurt. Tears stung her eyes and she looked away. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The world would have collapsed under its own magic, he explained, so gifting a piece of that energy to mortals was the key. But only some mortals would be able to wield the gift, and the tradeoff was the Fade. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “An inelegant solution to a problem of our own making. And now only I and Revas are left, and you mortals go through your gods like cheap linen trousers.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She slumped to the floor, her mind too full. A buzzing of hornets nested in her head. And then Nan was there, on the floor beside her, staring at her. “Oh dear. Did I break you, my little spark? I forgot how easily your minds collapse under such weighty truths. Let me take it away, and we can revisit this some other time when you are less burdened.” </em>
</p><p>The memories were erased, and she woke up beside Zevran that morning.</p><p>Time sped back up, to the here and now, and she stared at Nan, aghast. “Why?”</p><p>He shrugged, truly careless this time. “Why not? Do you understand how few people know what I’ve just told you? Truly, it is you, the ‘gods’, and a few priests of various belief systems who rely too much hallucinogenic mushrooms to bolster their faith.” He reached out and curled a thick lock of her hair around his finger. “Don’t you want to be special, Sia?”</p><p>“No.” Sia gasped out the word, staggering back and clutching at her chest. “No. I only ever wanted to live my life in a way I dictated.”</p><p>“And yet, here we are.” Nan tapped his chin with a finger. “Oh bollocks, really Revas? Now?” He pouted. “I was just having a bit of fun. Fine.” He bowed mockingly to her and Sia grit her teeth in anger, feeling her jaw pop under the strain. “Revas will be by later. For now, you have a feast to attend and battle plans to draw up! Don’t fear, little spark. You’ll put down the Archdemon and go on to live a life full of violence and sex and your precious freedom.” That green eye winked at her. “We can be your little secret, darling.”</p><p>Sia was alone, again, under the blossoming apple tree, feeling for all like she’d been made the plaything of some ancient, unknowable creature.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>One more chapter (since we all know how the Archdemon fight goes down). Then with any luck, it's onto part two where filling in the years of DAII become much more interesting.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Sia, do you have a moment?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knew she should have shut her door. Now that the party was largely scattered to whatever pleasures or distractions they desired after the stress of the Landsmeet, Sia had quickly retreated to her room to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed the space, the clarity, after having her very being rattled, like a caged animal, by Revas and Nan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Leliana was standing in the hallway, hands clasped together, smile gentle. Sia couldn’t say no. She waved the other woman in, and Leliana slipped inside, then pushed the door shut with a soft click. Needing no invitation, Leliana sat down next to her on the bed. “Are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia let out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “No, Leli, I really am not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Warm fingers curled around hers and Leliana drew Sia’s hand into her lap. “What happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia wanted to break. She desperately wanted to tell Leliana everything - the Fade magic, the dreams, the deeply disturbing visits by an entity that claims to have made the Fade. All of it. Her mouth worked as she valiantly tried to find the words but nothing came out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hand holding hers squeezed gently. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You don’t. And you shouldn’t be burdened by it. Ever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia shrugged her shoulders, rolling them up to her neck and then down. The muscles hurt - actually, everything hurt. Her body was a catalog of aches, bruises, and deep in her bones, a weariness that seemed to have no end. “I am a bad friend,” Sia finally croaked out, looking at Leliana’s beautiful face. “You came in here for a reason and I made this about me. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to apologize to me.” There was that squeeze of her hand again, gentle and warm and it made Sia sag with relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really do, though.” Sia turned to Leliana. “I really do. I am so sorry. I am so sorry for all this...madness and chaos and death we keep walking into. You joined up with us to help in the fight but I think you all got more than you bargained for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gentle fingers touched her cheek and Sia turned into their warmth. “I met you. That alone would have been enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should aim higher,” Sia said, trying to make light of the situation. But Leliana’s eyes were kind and soft and Sia wanted to collapse into her embrace. “I was always selfish, always thinking of myself first.” She touched the back of Leliana’s hand with her fingers. “You, Zevran, Alistair….you’ve taught me so much. Shown me so much. Showed me kindness when a spoiled Circle mage should have never hoped for more beyond her ken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leliana pulled her into a kiss that was sweet, almost chaste. A mere brush of lips that made Sia feel as though she could have floated to the clouds. “None of us are perfect, Sia. We all have made mistakes, some of them quite horrible. And all we can do is try to make up for them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia’s eyes stung and she blinked, pushing her emotions down with a firm hand as she leaned back. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leliana planted a kiss on her forehead. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her chest was still too tight, but she ignored that to say, “Now, what did you want to talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leliana’s face grew serious and that expression gnawed at Sia’s gut. “The offer Alistair has made. He wishes for me to stay on and lead his court spies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia gave her head a little shake, mouth dropping open in surprise. “Leliana, that’s wonderful!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “Well now I know your opinion on the matter. Which is why I was coming to you. For your advice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia grinned, feeling lighter than she had moments before. “It’s a perfect role for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leliana chewed on her lip, eyes drifting across the room. “I do think I would enjoy it, and be quite good at it. But being responsible for others? Knowing their fates were tied to the decisions I made….” She sighed, her grip on Sia’s hands tightening. “How do you and Alistair do it? Deal with the understanding that no matter what you do, people will die?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia had no answer for her. “I don’t think we deal with it, not really. Alistair has thrown himself into the waiting maw of politics and I am fighting for control of my very being with an ancient entity that would rather toy with me than assist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sharp pain stabbed her in the temple and she winced, immediately drawing Leliana’s concern. “I am very worried by what you just said but more, right now, about that little gasp of pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Headache,” Sia said as her vision swam. “A reminder from my….passenger that they’re always around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leliana swiftly scanned the room, her eyes tracking the shadows. “Are they here? I know there is something haunting your footsteps but I did not want to press for details.” Her hand went to her side, to the blade Sia knew was always secreted away. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you wish her to see?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Do you want her to know us?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia shook her head violently. “Leave,” she ground out through gritted teeth. Leliana gave her an alarmed look and Sia winced. “Not you, Leli.” She whirled, hands on her hips. “Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Behind her, Leliana let out a strangled gasp as Revas stepped forward from the very air around them. He looked more wan than before, pale and drawn with crescent shaped shadows under his eyes. That one bright green eye winked dully at her. “But as you can see, no matter which of us is the strongest at the moment, we’re always near.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>snick</span>
  </em>
  <span> of a dagger leaving its sheath made Sia tense. “It may not work on him,” Leliana said in her ear, “but I believe in being prepared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very astute of you, little raven,” Revas said with a bow. Leliana scoffed and Sia could almost feel her anger and confusion brimming off her, like steam from a boiling pot. “A small nod to the future for you. I hope you heed it when the moment arrives.” He turned to Sia, mouth set in a thin, firm line. “So, you are aligning yourself more and more with Nan. Not what I expected, to be honest. He is unpredictable. Dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t make a choice,” Sia bit out, wanting to snap and snarl at the entity before her. A comforting, warm hand landed on her shoulder and she stilled, taking in a deep breath. “Your other half seems to enjoy wresting control from me at the most opportune moments.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feared this would happen,” Revas replied with a sad shake of his head. “He’s always been that sort, ready to jump into the race but finding a shortcut in the process. I apologize, I should have known you wouldn’t have picked him on your own.” He brushed the back of his hand over her cheek. “Most mortals are so fallible to him. They desire power and will do anything to get it.” His gaze bore into her. “When you were younger, you would have fallen as well. It is good to know some of you have stronger wills.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what now?” Sia snapped, reaching the end of her tether with his presence. “Do you both push and pull me until I break? Is this some kind of game to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not at all. I wish to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you need it.” Revas walked over to the window, hands behind his back. “The Archdemon knows you’re planning something. It cannot see all, but it is intelligent and cunning. You will need something unexpected. Your apostate friend will come to you tonight and make an offer, one that will have consequences that not even I can begin to predict.” He glanced their way before saying, “I offer you a different path.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sia, this is...I don’t know what to say.” Leliana put a hand on her shoulder. “Should I stay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia swallowed hard. “Get Alistair for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Leliana slipped from the room, Sia brushed her lips over the other woman’s cheek. “Thank you.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia waited until the door closed before speaking to Revas. “You can help us defeat the Archdemon. I won’t let anyone else bear the cost.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I understand. And it is not a cost that can be shared. But you are right to ask for the other Warden.” Revas cocked his head and stared at the door. “He brings the Crow as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia grimaced. “I was hoping to spare Zevran this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Given his admiration and love for you, I doubt he would have appreciated that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “You’d do well to keep out of my affairs. I never asked for your involvement, and I’m certainly not grateful for it. It doesn’t matter what I am.” Her glare narrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet,” Revas said, gesturing to her, “you are willing to accept our assistance with the Archdemon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s bigger than me. Then any of us.” Sia’s voice had gone cold, but she felt tendrils of fear reaching up to choke her. It was probably an idiotic thing to play such games with a creature of untold power, but she was being used and she hated it. “And you have a stake here as well. If the Archdemon wins, you’ll have to find a new toy. I get the impression there aren’t many mages you use the term </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fadewalker</span>
  </em>
  <span> for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That seemed to give Revas no trouble. In fact, her words brought a grim smile to his face. “And you are correct. We would need to find another to connect with.” His head dipped, that one green eye darkening as he stared at her. “Or perhaps we wouldn’t. Perhaps I could convince Nan to abandon this folly once and for all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something caught in Sia’s chest. Would he give her the reason why? Why all these games, why all the yanking of her chain? “That is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air darkened around him, swirling, writhing arms that coiled and hissed. For one brief, horrifying moment, Sia feared she’d made a critical - deadly - error in judgment. “To free the mages. To break off the chains of the Templars and the lyrium and allow you back what was so wrongly taken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crossed her arms over her chest, heart thudding dangerously. “That makes us no better than Tevinter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And who is to say they’re completely wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock at the door and as quick as it had come, the darkness snapped closed and there was light in the room once again. “A conversation for another time,” Revas said. Then he was gone too, replaced by his grinning other half just as the door swung open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alistair and Zevran both drew weapons but Sia held up a hand. “Come in. Quickly. And shut and lock the door behind you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the other Warden and the assassin. How delightful.” Nan appeared behind Alistair, making him swing around. The tip of Alistair’s sword was now an inch from Nan’s throat, but the being chuckled. “I’m afraid that won’t do much. You can’t kill what you can’t touch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia wanted to chuck a bottle at Nan’s head but refrained, instead catching Zevran’s eye. “Your….passenger, I presume?” Zevran asked, voice so edged with caution it made Sia wince.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> talk about me? I’m ever so pleased.” Nan grinned, his gaze lingering on Alistair. “Come now. We need to have a little chat about your Archdemon problem.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span>Four hours later</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alistair blinked at her. “So this is it?” He blinked again. Sia feared his eyes would fall out of his skull if he kept doing so. “I either go sleep with Morrigan and let her wander off with our - our -“ His voice dropped into a whisper. “Our </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed and Sia heard the click of it. “Or we trust this being and its magic can hold the spirit of </span>
  <em>
    <span>the fucking Archdemon</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a bottle that looks like it couldn’t hold water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or one of us dies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or that.” Alistair sat down, his sigh a gust that stirred Sia’s hair. “I don’t know what’s more mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia sat with him, her hand on his knee. “The whole thing is mad. I hate to admit this, but I do think that will work.” She pointed at the fragile-looking dark blue bottle. It looked like it belonged in a noblewoman’s boudoir, a pretty thing meant to hold perfume oil or rosewater. “The magic is unknown to me, but the theory is solid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. Yes. Good plan. Give the strange Fade spirit the soul of an Archdemon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gave him what she hoped was a decent smile and wasn’t about to correct the little white lie Nan had told. She already knew Zevran suspected something; because of course he did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One day at a time. One battle at time.</span>
  </em>
  <span> “You can go sleep with Morrigan, if you prefer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alistair’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. “Oh no. No no no. Absolutely not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I don’t fancy either of us dying. I understand Riordan is willing to sacrifice himself but it seems -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unnecessary at best I know.” Alistair put his face in his hands and groaned. “Why couldn’t it be easy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia let that go unanswered. She doubted he wanted one. “Want me to go tell Morrigan she won’t get to bed a strapping young Warden?” The look Alistair gave her could have melted metal. Despite the tension and the sheer awfulness of the entire situation, she had to laugh. “I’ll go now, get it over with.” Sia pointed to the bed, putting on her sternest look. “You need sleep, Alistair. We both do. The final allies march in tomorrow and then-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It died on her lips before she could even fathom what they were about to face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without a word, Alistair crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. Burrowed in his warmth and the scent of leather and sword oil, Sia took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She felt him do the same. It was oddly calming, the two of them breathing together, sharing space and air and a moment to consider what exactly they were walking into. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rest,” she finally said, looking up to put a hand on his cheek. “It may be the only chance you get.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alistair nodded. “You should do the same. Tell Zevran not to keep you up too late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia chuckled. “This may be the first time since we’ve known him he’s not keyed up for any other reason.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His kiss on her forehead was gentle and reassuring. Nothing more than a brush of lips over her skin. “At dawn.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At dawn.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Morrigan was strangely disappointed they were not taking her up on the bizarre offer she’d made hours earlier. “Odd. I thought for sure -” The witch shook her head. “Doesn’t matter. You are doing what you think is right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia gave her a curt nod. “And, I suspect, as are you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed.” Morrigan pondered her boots for a long moment. “After this battle, I will not return. You may never see me again, though I suspect fate may intervene at some point.” Her eyes, so dark in the dim room, gave Sia pause. Something was there; something she didn’t want to say out loud and Sia wanted to press her friend for more. But she also knew Morrigan and that such a tactic would never work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know how to find me if you do wish to catch up at some point.” Sia kept her tone even, neutral. “I suspect we’ll be busy on the king’s behalf for some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would assume so as well.” There was another flash of something strange, even foreign, in Morrigan’s expression. Sia bit down on her frustration even though she wanted to scream from the rooftops about how it couldn’t be anything nearly as bad as a fucking Archdemon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia twisted her family ring off her hand and held it out in offering. “My family name never really mattered to me. I was so young when I went to the Circle, and when you’re that young and your own blood gives you up to your jailers, it’s hard to forgive. It turns what most people think of when they consider </span>
  <em>
    <span>family</span>
  </em>
  <span> into something distasteful. Vile, even. So while it bears the Amell crest, know I do not offer this because of the symbol stamped in the metal.” She swallowed hard, pushing the emotion of what she was acknowledging down. Drowning it, so it couldn’t surface again and only a carcass would be left behind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Morrigan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her friend raised a dark brow and finally nodded, plucking the ring gently from Sia’s palm. “I - thank you.” She stared down at the metal, still warm from Sia’s hand. “It’s strange. After everything we’ve been through, I still thought I would be able to leave without regret.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you regret?” Sia’s question was a whisper, a soft thing that floated between them in the empty air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morrigan gave her a sad, tiny smile. “That we hadn’t met earlier, so we might have had more time together.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>When Sia returned to her room, the fire was banked low and the air smelled of incense and wine. Zevran was propped up against the headboard of the bed, eyes closed as his chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. Sia drank in the sight of him, stamping down the thought that this could be the last time she ever saw him this way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the Maker, he was gorgeous. And he was hers. Her throat tightened as she stared at the way his skin glistened in the firelight, his hair curling loose around his shoulders. It was getting longer and longer and he refused her offer to cut it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You like it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he’d teased as she wound her fingers through it while they’d lazed about in bed one morning. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Why would you ask me to cut it?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t. I wondered if you wanted to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, mi amor. You must admit it is more fun to hold onto, yes? To grip my hair and make me go where you want.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes but….</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I like it because you do.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” Sia dropped her robes to the floor and pulled her hair loose from its binding. “I love you, Zevran. And I’m terrified of what’s to come.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Zevran opened his eyes slowly, took in her nakedness and the raw emotion on her face. He took her hand and pulled her inside the cocoon of blankets, let her wrap herself in him and get as close as she could. Only once they were entwined did he say, “Should the worst happen, Sia, know you are the reason I am here. I am yours, mi amor. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sia fell asleep after a long while, content only in the knowledge that even if the world stopped, she’d found something worth all the blood and pain and ash.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can't believe this thing is finally done.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That can’t be it!”</p><p>Alistair’s yell over the cacophony of darkspawn screams and the screech of metal drew Sia’s attention away from the now-stoppered bottle on the ground.</p><p>“Something is drawing them away!” Wynne yelled back before bludgeoning a darkspawn over the head with her staff. “Look!”</p><p>The darkspawn were fleeing, diving into the massive pits that opened up in the earth as the Archdemon burst through in a blast of ancient magic and terrific, deadly force. As though it had come from the bowels of The Black City itself. And then it had been a race to the top of Fort Drakon; a bloody slog that left the rest of their party behind while she and Alistair drove the best of their forces to that final battle.</p><p>Zevran and Wynne had backed their play, cutting through darkspawn lieutenants while elven archers pinned down the hordes of front line darkspawn. The golems secured from Orzammar were their own personal wrecking crew, tearing through heavily armored foes - and the columns and supports of the fort at the same time. Fort Drakon lay in ruin, its topmost tower a grave to both the Archdemon and Riordan, their epitaphs inseparable by pounds upon pounds of stone, mortar, and blood. </p><p>They would eventually recover Riordan’s broken body and give him a proper Warden funeral, then burn anything that couldn’t be harvested from the Archdemon.</p><p>Sia stood in a slowly dispersing circle of her own magic, held aloft by sheer will at this point. True to their word, the halves of the entity that made the Fade didn’t bolster her powers but did keep the slings and arrows and blades of the enemy at bay long enough for Sia to begin the ritual. The one that had to happen under the eye of the Archdemon.</p><p><em> The closer you are, the easier it will be </em> , Nan had told them as he handed Sia the little glass bottle. <em> Too far away, and you risk drawing out the ritual for too long. Too close….well, I think you can hazard a guess at what might happen. </em></p><p>Zevran drew the monster off her with the ballista perched up the parapets, but this also kept him out of harm’s way. He hadn’t argued the strategy, and as the golems and dwarves hammered at the darkspawn, Alistair led more forces to cut at the Archdemon’s legs. Wynne handled the mages they’d secured, directing offense and defense and keeping the others on their feet.</p><p>Everyone was wounded but with adrenaline so high their hearts were fit to bursting, her companions rushed more darkspawn, driving them back into the pits. Sten was <em> throwing </em> darkspawn into walls, doors, any solid surface he could find; and then occasionally chucking one at Oghren to be stomped into putty. Leliana had long run out of arrows and was cutting into her prey with daggers out, their tips and edges caked with blood. Morrigan directed the remaining of her animal allies to bite into throats and tendons. Courage was back with the arl, and the only one Sia knew was truly safe.</p><p>And she stood over the little glass bottle that held the bit of a soul of the Archdemon and waited for it to be collected. She couldn’t feel her hands - shock, likely from the overuse of magic. Her mana was gone and even the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears sounded dull, hollow.</p><p><em> Unless you want something to happen to this thing, you may want to collect your prize </em>, she thought as her vision began to swim. In the distance she saw Alistair lean heavily on one of the Arl’s men, but he was upright. Mostly. </p><p>“Surprising what you mortals are capable of when you put your mind to it.” Nan appeared at her side, face grim, green eye bright as he observed the ruined battlefield that had once been a proud Fereldan fort. “But here I am.”</p><p>“Why you?” she gasped out as a hot lance of pain shot through her side, threatening to drop her to one knee. “I thought Revas -”</p><p>“He’s a bit busy with a new ally we’ve made. Turns out we’re not the only ones invested in some <em> restructuring </em>.” Nan scooped up the bottle and shook it. “And this little bit of an Archdemon soul will come in handy. A bargaining chip, if you will. We’ve dealt with this individual before but he’s never been so determined.” He gave her a courtly bow. “And also as promised, we will leave you be. For now. There’s work to do on our end and as much as it pains me to admit it, it’s far more valuable to both Revas and I than one little Fadewalker.” He wiggled his fingers at her with a grin. “Nicely done, Sia. Good job not getting dead.”</p><p>As he disappeared, she heard him say, “We make good on our promises, my dear. Do what you feel you must, but you can’t say we’re a liar.”</p><p>Her vision left her as she collapsed into the mud.</p><hr/><p>
  <em> Two months later </em>
</p><p>Sia shook out the tingles in her left hand and continued writing. The tea at her elbow had long gone cold and she was too determined to finish the rosters before hitting the road. One less thing for the lieutenants to do, and it set an example about work ethic.</p><p>A bang echoed in the hallway just outside her door and she grumbled. It sounded again a few seconds later and, exasperated, she threw down her quill and marched over to the door. “Would you stop that incessant banging? Some of us are trying to work!”</p><p>The two cadets immediately snapped to attention, their faces beet red as they stood before their Commander. “Sorry Commander! Ma’am! Ser!” the younger of the pair stuttered, his blond hair shaggy in his eyes. His companion, a woman a few years older, elbowed him and hissed something under her breath. </p><p>Sia saw they had been trying to repair a broken section of wall and sighed. “No, it’s fine. You were doing as instructed. It was my mistake to hole up in this part of the castle.” She waved them on, squinting against the headache that threatened. “Come back in an hour and finish your work.”</p><p>The boy’s gaze, try as he might, kept drifting to her. Another elbow, this one sharper, was jabbed into his ribs but he was deterred. “Ser, is it true?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He swallowed hard then nodded at her. “That you gave up your own flesh to defeat the Archdemon?”</p><p>Oh how she wished that were the case. It would have been easier - much easier - to lop off a finger or a hand in sacrifice to the magic she’d used to contain the tiny piece of the Archdemon’s soul. But it was the lie she and Alistair had constructed to save her.</p><p>“It is,” she said slowly, narrowing her eyes at the young man. “But I also know what stories they tell about me and I can guarantee they’re not true.” She leaned in, leering. “Most of them. Now go.”</p><p>They snapped out salutes and scurried off, hustling down the hall until rounding the corner and taking them from her line of sight. She shook her head and went back inside to finish her paperwork.</p><p>That night, as she lounged in the tub, the memory of those two young soldiers made her laugh. Sia felt like she’d aged years after the battle with the Archdemon, and in some ways she had. She bore its mark like a tattoo on her back; a dark stain from where the creature’s soul had ripped through her. Revas and Nan had protected her from the worst of it, but it would pain her for the rest of her days. </p><p><em> Spawn-stain </em> , Revas had told her as hot tears rolled down her face. The pain was so intense she’d blacked out numerous times the night after the battle; unable to sleep through the fever, even with aid of medicine and magic. <em> You knew the cost </em>.</p><p><em> I did </em> , she’d rasped out. <em> I knew, and I’d do it again </em>.</p><p>He’d smiled gently at her, a soothing hand on her brow. <em> You mortals can be so fearless, so selfless. When the need arises. Sleep, child.  </em></p><p><em> This is just the beginning </em>.</p><p>“Keeping the tub warm for me?”</p><p>Zevran’s lightly teasing tone made her smile and she cracked one eye open to see him standing before the tub, swiftly unbuckling his armor. “Among other things,” she shot back, leaning her head against the thick copper to bare her neck. The bite he’d left that morning was a soft bruise, one she hadn’t bothered hiding under her clothes. </p><p>“Naughty,” he purred, dropping the last of his gear onto the floor and slipping in beside her. He reeled her in for a kiss, his lips cold against hers. The water flirted with the tub’s edges as she pulled him forward, hands seeking out the scars and divots and bumps she knew so well. </p><p>“Mi amor,” he whispered, steadying himself as Sia sank down on him with a groan. “You did miss me.”</p><p>Sia bumped her forehead against his. “I always miss you.”</p><p>Careful of her back, his hands settled on her waist as she began to move against him. She was already so eager for him and he would never stop being thrilled by that. “Then it is a good thing we are going north together. What would you do without me?”</p><p>Sia bore down on him with a clever, cruel roll of her hips and he bit back a cry. It made her grin, watching him fight to keep from sinking into the pleasure of their joined bodies. Trying to hold out. “Considering the ship that’s picking us up, I think I’d find a way to not cry myself to sleep every night.”</p><p>“You are incorrigible,” he panted out, eyes dark and delighted as he watched her above him. “I didn’t know you had a thing for ships.”</p><p>“I have a thing for beautiful ship captains.”</p><p>“Ah, the truth of it. Be still my heart.”</p><p>Sia rolled her hips again and this time he didn’t hold back his moan. “As long as it always comes back to me.”</p><p>“Always.”</p><hr/><p>“Promise me you’ll write.”</p><p>“Alistair,” Zevran admonished gently, swiping a thumb over the king’s cheek. “Of course we will. But one of us is a mage who can send messages through magical means, you know.”</p><p>Alistair sighed and leaned into Zevran’s touch. “I know. I’m just worried.”</p><p>“Fretting, I think is the word you want.”</p><p>“Kings don’t fret.”</p><p>“This one does.”</p><p>Alistair glared at him. “Fine! You win. I’m fretting.”</p><p>With careful touches, Zevran pulled the taller man down, pressing his lips to the ones that trembled under his gentle ministrations. “Alistair, you do not need to worry about us. We are off to secure you more allies and, with any luck, reach some of the mages in the north. We go to warmer climes but we will only be apart in distance.” With ease, Zevran lifted Alistair’s hand and kissed it. “Do not fear, my King. You have a kingdom to manage and we’ve a boat to catch.”</p><p>Alistair sighed into Zevran’s touch and with a look that lingered on Zevran’s skin, he gently pushed the elf away. “Go. Sia already said her goodbyes and had to head down to the docks.” His mouth twitched. “Don’t cause too much trouble.”</p><p>“Never.”</p><p>Alistair rolled his eyes. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”</p><p>“Me?” Zevran put a scandalized hand to his chest. “My days of trouble are over, Alistair. You know that better than most.” And he tossed the king a wink before walking out the door.</p><p>Alistair watched him go, waiting for elf’s shadow to fade before heading back to the throne room with a sigh.</p><p>Ferelden wasn’t going to rule itself. He had work to do.</p><hr/><p>“Well look what the cat dragged in.” The feather in Isabela’s ridiculous hat whipped back and forth in the wind. “Sia, I thought you said he wasn’t going to be late.”</p><p>Sia held back a laugh, her eyes sparkling with the effort. “Zevran, you’re late.”</p><p>“By but moments!” He threw up his hands in mock exasperation. “And here I was thinking I was doing a nice thing by stopping to buy you this.” Zevran pressed a dusty bottle into Isabela’s gloved fingers. “I can always take it back, darling.”</p><p>Isabela took one look at the label, cracked and peeling, and gasped. “Oh my. Now <em> that </em> is a gift worthy of the pirate queen herself!” She thrust her chin at Sia. “That one only bowed and gave me a kiss.”</p><p>Zevran tried to swipe the bottle back but Isabela dodged him, laughing. “I would cry foul but she’s been wanting to plant her lips on you since the day she met you.” He raised his voice. “And put them in more than one place!”</p><p>The roll of bread (<em> where the fuck did she get a roll of bread? </em>) came flying at his head with a swiftness he appreciated. Zevran snatched it out of the air and sunk his teeth into it, grinning with a mouth full as Sia stood and dusted off her pants. “You two are horrible.”</p><p>“You love it,” Isabela said, grin as wide as the ocean. “Now come on! We’re already late and I don’t want to be stuck in port any longer than necessary.” </p><p>Zevran caught Sia by the arm, locking his elbow with hers. “Are you ready, mi amor?”</p><p>Sia glanced up at the pristine white sails of <em> Her Lady’s Pleasure </em> as they caught in the brisk wind. “I’ve never left Ferelden before. So yes.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”</p>
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